In The Closet
by Lli
Summary: Just think of all the things one can keep in closets: brooms, boots, skeletons, sexualities, dirty clothes, the possibilities are endless, really... This is me jumping on the drabble-wagon.
1. Getting Dressed

Because, let's face it, their eyes really don't go.

* * *

Getting Dressed.

Holly had never spent a lot of time on her wardrobe. It just wasn't something she worried about. After all, she nearly lived in her uniform, so why bother? However, she did have the occaisional foray into that wonderful thing called a social life and she prided herself in not looking like too much of an idiot during them. She had a perfectly decent sense of style, thank you very much, and an excellent eye for colour.

An eye which was nearly crying in frustation at the moment.

"No, no…. No… no!... ARGH, no."

Holly eyed the pile of clothes on her bed balefully before turning back to her mirror. Arms akimbo, she spoke to the room at large in that singularly incredibly fond but still nearly homicidal tone of voice she reserved for one person, and one person only.

"D'arvit Artemis! _Why_ do our eyes have to clash so badly?"


	2. You are so grounded, young lady

Not much with the closet theme, but I like it. Set whenever! Yahoo! what a punny title...Yes, well, I like to think I'm funny... (PS. formatting gone a bit funny so sorry for the weird spacing.)

* * *

You are _so_ grounded

The full moon shone overhead, illuminating the babbling of the stream and trimming the last, desperately clinging oak leaves. The breeze smelt of cold and mud and the winter to come, but tonight all was serene and quiet. Or, at least, _had been_.

"D'arvit!"

Holly looked at the battery read out on her wings in disgust. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

One small red bar reached vainly for the other end of the screen before fluttering and flat lining.  
_Na na ne na na, no power, shoulda checked it before you left, shouldn't you have, you recon jock you.  
_The words ran across the screen in bright green gnommish letters.

Frond, she hated it when Foaly was right.

Blowing out her bangs in frustration, she stared out across the Irish countryside, so innocent and silver-pretty under the full moon. Sighing, she activated the communicator in her helmet and placed a call.

"Did you know, Captain Short, that it is, in fact, four in the morning?" The voice was icy. Acidic. Condescending. And had answered before the first ring had even ended.  
The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Er, yeah, right. Sorry about that...but look, um, Arty... buddy. Pal... can I get a ride?"


	3. Coming out of the Closet TP SPOILER

Not, as the title may suggest, slash. But still, same principal applies. Gosh, they're cute, aren't they? TP SPOILERS OMG!!

* * *

Coming out of the closet

Years had passed, peacefully enough, for all that Opal was running about, wreaking havoc. They hadn't seen each other in awhile, not face to face. No surprise though, really. They were busy people. But Opal was getting out of hand, so much so that she had swallowed the LEP's collective ego (nearly choking), and called him.

There were officials with her this time, everything was above board now. Trouble wasn't going to let them run off, behind everyone's backs, like Root had. It was out in the open where we can monitor your every step, or not at all. Well, if that was the way he wanted it.

"You came." She was nigh on glowing to see him. She'd always been useless at pretending. His heart staggered, a little drunkenly, in his chest.

The officials frowned. At him or at her, he wasn't sure. Maybe both together.

Out into the open. "Of course I did."  
Where everyone could see it. "I couldn't do without you."  
That was the way he wanted it.


	4. Forget me not blue

Also, did Juliet ever get her memories back? Never addressed! But anyway, I like her, and I like her and Holly and it's not a Jolliet at all really, but I like that too. And that scene in EC with them and the gnome wrestling always made me a bit sad.

* * *

Forget Me Not Blue

The breeze came in off the sea, salty and hot. Juliet leaned back in her deck chair, stretching out her long, lovely body in mindless bliss. A self conscious cough from above and behind her startled her out of her happy reveries. Turning, she arched an eyebrow at the young Mexican boy before her, practically quaking his boots.  
"Package, señorita. At the hotel, they told me, bring it." He thrust a thin, papered parcel at her.  
She gave him a smile and a pacifying peso and took the package from him.  
Ripping of the paper she found two home burned DVDs and a hand written note on forget-me-not blue paper.  
_I was cleaning out my closet the other day and found these. And since the boys have their memories back, I figured, to hell with it. I promised to send you these, and even if you can't remember, I do.  
With love.  
_Juliet couldn't make heads or tails of the note but, two hours later, ensconced in front of her laptop watching pairs of heavily steroided ..._things_ go at it in what looked to be an anti-gravity chamber, she decided that whoever had sent her this was probably the awesomest friend she'd never known she had. Just wait until she showed Dom.


	5. Uprooted

I always kind of wondered what happened to the original necklace. If it's mentioned in the later books, and I missed it, feel free to throw rotten fruit. And yeah, it's a bit corny, but I like to think Root was secretly two steps ahead.

* * *

Uprooted

Holly felt acutely uncomfortable. The room was packed with people she didn't know, didn't want to know, or did know and wished desperately that she didn't. Everyone had come out, from councilmen to his hick cousins to his hysterical ex-wife and her blue-skinned boy-toy. And none of them wanted her here. She could feel their eyes on her as she practically dove for the chair next to Wing Commander Vinyáya, the only friendly face in the room.

"I didn't realise Root left so much behind." Holly muttered to her old instructor, one time boss, and occasional confidante."Well, LEP Commanders do get paid the big bucks, my dear. And trust me, everyone's going to want a piece of this pie. Good thing the paperwork took so long or you might have missed this while you were holidaying with that young mud boy of yours for three years."  
"While Artemis and I were trapped in another dimension, trying desperately to save the world as we know it, you mean?"  
"Something like that, yes." Vinyáya smiled, showing her incisors.

A stout gnome clambered up to the podium, coughing to get the crowd's attention.  
"I am Phileas Bog-Trotsky, representative of Bog-Trotsky and Linen Law firm, here today to read you the last will and testament of on Julius C. Root, deceased on the..."

And so it went, the wife wailing over not getting the town house, the hick cousins arguing over what new farm equipment to buy, the councilmen smiling for the cameras, showing their meaningless trinkets. _Why am I here?_ thought Holly. _What could he possibly have left me?_

"Major Holly Short."  
She jumped at the sound of her name, awkwardly edging out into the aisle and up to the podium.

The gnome held out a plain square box. "He made quite a fuss about this little bauble. Added it to the will a mere month before he died, we had to hunt for ages for it during the house assessment, found it in the back of his closet."

Holly nodded obediently, taking the box and hopping it back to her seat. Vinyáya leaned over her shoulder as she pried the lid off, ignoring the curious stares of those around her. Inside was a gold coin, hanging on a leather thong looped through a laser hole blasted cleanly through the center. It was her coin. Or rather, Artemis's coin. The one he'd copied and given to Mulch, his last chance to regain his memories. Here was the real one.  
There was a note underneath.

_Because, let's face it, no one wants to put up with you moping around like a besotted pubescent for the next millennia.  
Besides, just in case something does happen to me (unlikely), at least this way I know __he'll look after you. Don't worry, I'm appalled at myself as well._

_"_He knew the whole time."  
Holly made a strangled sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh.


	6. More than was Comfortable

Always wanted to write a Butler-Holly fic. Just because they are similar, and you know, species and physical-ness aside, it could've been cute.

* * *

More than was comfortable.

Domovoi Butler had never intended to take a bride. He was fully prepared to go through life, if not celibate, single, and unattached. Unattached romantically, platonically, any sort of -ally.

Well, his relationship with Artemis had blown the latter clean out of the water, so he supposed he shouldn't really have been too surprised that first time when he had looked down at her and felt his heart lurch with the painful reality of their situation. Their? Who was he kidding? His situation.

She reminded him of himself, straight forward, loyal, deadly. They were soldiers and they understood each other. She loved and she protected the same arrogant, obnoxious, wonderful boy he did. Every night he thanked her for saving his charge and himself when he could not. He owed her more than was comfortable.

He watched Holly punch Artemis in the shoulder, throwing her head back to laugh. He saw Artemis' small, self-satisfied smile at having pleased her. He saw more than he wanted to.

But he was a Butler. He was the best Butler there had ever been and if he had gotten too attached to his charge, and if he had gotten old, and if he had fallen in love, well, what did it matter, if no one ever knew? He'd just tamp those feelings down, shove them to the back of his brain, along with all those other pesky little things like doubt, pain, and fear.

But she looked back at him then, with a smile especially for him, and, strong, brave man that he was, he fled.  
"I'll be right back kids, nearly forgot our jackets in the closet."


	7. Dear Sigmund, TP SPOILER

WARNING! ATTENTION! TP SPOILERS.  
If Colfer can do it, I have no qualms about shipping all over the place. Yeah, it's cheesy, so sue me. And honestly, she does put up with an awful lot of shite from Artemis and still keeps coming back for more.

* * *

Dear Sigmund,

Holly sat in the Ops booth, swivelling her chair back and forth, back and forth. Foaly pretended to be busy, typing this, fiddling with that, waiting for her to say whatever it was she wanted to say. She remained mute.  
_You did kiss him.  
I was young, high on magic. He lied to me.  
No, really? Pull the other one. He's never done THAT before. Also, lest we forget: kidnapped you, had you cut off people's thumbs, lie on luggage racks for years and years, put you in countless near death situations...  
Exactly. Case in point.  
And yet...  
You are so not helping.  
Aw come on, just admit it. No one'll judge. Well, actually, that's a lie. But that's nothing you're not used to. It's just three little words. Come on...  
Go to hell.  
Denial's not just a river in Egypt, baby  
_Foaly watched Holly's face twitch as she held vicious internal dialogue. Right when he thought he might give in and just shake whatever it was out of her, she spoke.  
"Foaly, _why_ does my id hate me so much?"


	8. Laundry Day

Just a warning, my drabbles have a tendency to vary _wildly _in quality. Sorry about that. Anyway, never written anything about Grub before so yay! hurrah! party!

* * *

Laundry Day

The blinds were drawn, only a few sneaking fingers of sluggish yellow light wriggled through to smear across the floor and walls. The room was small and rather bare. A bed, a nightstand, with the obligatory photos of Mother and his induction ceremony, and a large, ominous closet to one side of the door.

He was standing fully inside this closet. It was deep and wide and held much more than his small body. Alternating between grade school cursing and a snivelling whine, Grub Kelp rooted through the contents of his closet.

If only they knew what he had in here! Oh, they'd sing a different tune then! He growled, not terribly frighteningly, but it made him feel manly, and tossed an unidentifiable but very pungent bundle out onto the floor.

He was Grub Kelp, for Frond's sake! The only fairy to take on the monstrous mudman Butler and live! How dare they treat him with such disrespect! Trouble thought he was so high and mighty, just because _he_ was Commander.

Well, he'd show him alright, and his little dog too! (The Kelps also had relatives in The Wizard of Oz).

He could _so_ do his own laundry!


	9. Serious Misgivings

As ridiculously cute/bittersweet/etc as I find A/H, sometimes I just really like writing Jolliets.

ps. There seems to be confusion over Ch. 3. It's from Artemis's POV and he is, indeed, meeting Holly.

* * *

Serious Misgivings

Holly plopped down beside her, looking like she'd just been on a shoplifting spree at the Salvation Army: rolled up corduroys, nearly half a dozen patched up tank tops (the top one scrawled with loud yellow gnommish), a ratty zip up hoody.

Juliet snapped her fingers in an 'aha!' sort of way. "Wait, don't tell me….you're going under cover as a colour blind tree planter on the festival circuit?"

Holly raised an eyebrow. "Got something to say about my clothing, Miss Gucci girl?"

Juliet eyed her companion with evident misgiving. "You have no idea."

Watching from across the room, Butler thought it was merely seeing Holly dressed like a homeless waif that was giving his sister grief. And this was partially true.

_I can't believe it. I would so still jump her, even now_._ **Even in those clothes**_**.**

Giving a delicate shudder, Juliet groaned mentally._ Oh God, this really must be love_.


	10. An Unabashed Confession TP SPOILER

Bit longer than usual... I've been toying with this for a while, going to make a part two, whereupon Holly discusses her discovery with Mulch. The whole tiara story is one of my favourites I think, pretty darn cute. Anyway, it was meant to be pure self righteous comedy on Holly's part but got a bit more serious than intended. Oh well!Enjoy

* * *

An Unabashed Confession

She climbed in through a second story window, landing silently on the hardwood floor. Knowing full well it was against regulations, she slipped off her helmet, shimmering into the visible spectrum. She was running low as it was, and there was no one in the hallway. She let herself relax for a second, closing her eyes and sighing.

"Holly Short?"

Her eyes flew open.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. Isn't that odd? Arty's told me a lot about you." Angeline Fowl smiled down at Holly, a smile that was as open and caring as her son's could be deceitful and malicious.

_Note to self, Artemis apparently gets his creepy silent glide-walk from his mother's side of the family. Where in Frond's name did she come from?_ Out loud, Holly managed a shaky: "He has?" Then the implications of this sunk in. "He _has_?"

The smile quirked, becoming sadder. "I was trapped in that woman's brain, I knew... some things... already. I asked him for the truth, and even he can't lie to his own mother when she asks him face to face." She laughed then, and Holly could see why Artemis, senior and junior, did what they did for her.

"And, well," Angeline continued, "to be honest, he's told me more than I believe he realizes. That's just the way it is with people we love, I guess: we open our mouths to speak about something else entirely but we always end up coming back to them. They are the most brilliant thing we could ever possibly say."

"Oh." Said Holly, in a very quiet voice, remembering the weight of him in her arms as she flew them home.

Watching the shorter woman, Angeline raised her slender hands to toy with a jewel at her throat. Holly frowned. It was a jewel that looked awfully familiar. Recognition hit her harder than a lungful of fungus cigar smoke, all her warm fuzzies vanishing.

That's a very pretty stone." Holly commented casually, despite her jaw clenching at the memory of that particular debacle. _He put me through all that grief to get his mother a birthday present? I am going to kill that boy!_

"Yes, isn't it? Arty gave it to me, after you healed me and before you brought Timmy back. My, I have quite a lot to thank you for, don't I? It matches their eyes. Well, and yours now, I suppose. It was like having a bit of him with me still…" Her eyes grew distant, her smile an unabashed confession of love. Holly looked away.

Unconsciously running a finger under her own blue eye, she found she wasn't quite so angry anymore.


	11. Living a Lie

Sequel drabble! Ah Mulch. If I could write witty dialogue like Mulch's I would be a happy girl.

Ps. Looking for a beta for some original fiction, anyone, anyone?

* * *

Living a Lie

Mulch didn't even look up when she entered the office. He'd heard her swear at the door as she used her whole body to push it open, shriek as she nearly knocked over the teetering boxes in the hall and swear some more when she stubbed her toe tripping over what looked, to her, suspiciously like a mouldering head. He knew perfectly well who it was.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favourite girly Major. What can I do for you, Holly? Has some rogue curry smuggler gotcha stumped? Do you need me to save you and that kid's scrawny asses again? Hmm? Come on, you can tell old Uncle Mulch."

Holly glared. "You know, on second thought Mulch, maybe I won't share this steaming cricket chow mein with you. Maybe I'll just sit here and eat it all by myself. 'Cause Frond knows I ain't wading back through _that_ mess anytime soon."

"Don't joke about things like that!" He edged out from behind the desk and gave her a tight hug. One she returned gingerly. As much as she loved him, she didn't want to _smell_ like him. With one arm he swept half the junk on his desk to the floor and, hopping up to seat himself, motioned for her to do the same. She rolled her eyes.

They talked about the weather, and the business, and the LEP and Mulch let her steer the conversation until she got to what it was she wanted to say.

"Went to visit Artemis the other day." She said it nonchalantly enough, picking through her noodles after an elusive deep fried cricket.

"Oh yes." Mulch said nothing about the increasing amount of time she seemed to spend doing this.

"Yeah, you know, was up to do the ritual."

"Of course."

"Anyway, ran into his mother, and guess what she had around her neck? Do you remember that story I told you about Fei Fei's tiara, and Artemis, and those dwarves?"

"Uh, oh yeah, vaguely." It was Mulch's turn to be nonchalant.

"Well, she had the d'arvitting _jewel_ around her neck. Turns out all that effort and hassle were just so he could give his mom a necklace." Holly drifted mentally a little, musing to the far wall. "I mean, who _does_ stuff like that?"

Mulch's jaw dropped, as did most of his food. He hadn't caught anything past 'necklace'. "That little _sneak_. He said it was for a _laser_."

Holly's musings ended abruptly. She put her chopsticks down very carefully, and set her bowl of food to one side. In a very soft, even voice, she asked: "He said _what_ was for a laser, Mulch?"


	12. Never Fortune's Fool

These next two stories all started as a desire to see Butler be fatherly, but then things just got a bit out of hand. I was going to put them up as their own story because they veer a little too widely out of the humour/friendship genre but I figured they still kept with the whole 'hiding and revealing things' theme, and at the last minute I chickened out. But, please bear with me as I work out this silly serious streak. I never quite feel at ease with characterization when I make AF fics too sad or serious, probably because I read the series for its witty banter and utter hilarity, so it probably won't too last long.

Wait, two more things: 1) I would say TP SPOILER! AH!! right about now, but hurrah! for it being out everywhere now. 2) That was definitely me asking for a beta last chapter, I tend to write as I would speak and it doesn't always translate quite so well.

Now to finish these endless author's notes...

* * *

Never Fortune's Fool

Butler watched Artemis open the door to the basement, walk down the concrete steps, through the hall to the very end; to the cell door. He watched his young charge turn the knob and walk into that dim concrete cube, empty for years.

He sighed, got up from the security monitors, and took the elevator down.

Artemis was sitting on the cot, his back against the wall. The concrete was no longer fresh, the floor no longer clean. Cobwebs had started in the corners. The bed creaked as Butler joined him on it.

"What a charming place to think Artemis. I can really just feel the creativity flowing down here. Must be all the positive memories."

Artemis didn't even grace that with a disparaging glance, continuing to stare morosely at the opposite wall. "I have done something incredibly stupid, old friend."

Butler digested this unusual piece of information silently. At length, he replied, "I'm not sure which surprises me more: that, or the fact that you're admitting to it."

Artemis did look at him then. A look that said very clearly just how unamused he was. "Yes, yes, everyone's a comedian these days, aren't they?" He sounded bitter. Butler wondered if he actually was, or if this was some teenage hormone flux.

"You going to tell me what you did?"

Minutes later, "I lied to her. I didn't realize the cost at the time. Well, perhaps, I simply wouldn't admit to it. Whichever, the outcome is that the one thing I will always want, I will now never have. Moreover, I will know for the rest of my life it was my own stupid fault. But don't worry, at least I appreciate the irony."

"Huh." Butler looked skeptical. "Well, I'm going to make a leap of logic and assume we're talking about Holly here, and say that, while, yes, it was a stupid thing to do, no argument there, don't you think that maybe the difference in age, or, say, _species_, might be contributing factors in this problem? Just a thought."

Artemis snorted, his tone nasty and sarcastic. "I am Artemis Fowl the Second. I could have overcome problems of age and species."

Butler nodded complacently. "I'm sure you could have. But I was wondering about_ her_. Sometimes, Artemis, things are really, truly, out of our control. Even you can't take credit for fate."

Artemis was quiet for so long Butler had begun to rise when he spoke again. "But that's what made the lie such a brilliant idea, wasn't it? Now at least, she can blame it on me."

His voice cracked as he spoke, a reminder of his often forgotten youth.


	13. Enough

Part two. In which Butler continues to be fatherly.

* * *

Enough

Butler had a decided sense of déjà vu as he watched her slip out of Artemis' room, taking the stairs to the ground level. She was shielded, but he had installed anti-shield filters on the cameras. She opened the basement door, following the hallway to its end, to the door she had never before chosen to open. She turned the knob and went through.

He sighed, got up from the security monitors, and took the elevator down.

She smiled at him as he sat down next to her, carefully, still scared of crushing some tiny limb.

"You know," he began, "just the other week I found Artemis down here. Told me some things. He was pretty cut up, in his own way."

"Don't bother, Butler." Holly cut him off. "I know what he's done, I know what he'll keep doing. You don't need to try and endear him to me."

"I'm not. Honestly, in some ways, I think it might be better for you if you cut your losses now, before he does something else stupid. No one would blame _you_." He laid the bait, watching her face closely.

Her face twisted. "Oh, probably. I mean, for heaven's sake, he's a _human._ He'll die before I'm even in my prime. Never mind that he'll always lie, and he'll always steal. I'll never be able to trust him." But then she gave a wry smile. "Butler, I want to give a flying dwarf's ass about these things, honestly, I do. They're really, really good reasons to drop this relationship and run, before it gets out of hand. And yet somehow I just don't seem to care."

She shook her head, astonished. "But that makes me think that it may, just maybe, be worth it."

Her whole face fit neatly in his hands and he cradled it gently as he spoke, running a thumb along her cheek. "Holly Short, you may be the bravest person I've ever met."

"I just hope that's enough." She whispered.

* * *


	14. Redecorating

A bit that came to me while writing the previous two. Drabbling off my drabbles. Oh dear. I just really like how much these two understand/are at ease with each other.

* * *

Redecorating

The cell was as ugly and cold as ever. He couldn't think why she'd be down here.

She sat on the old bed, back against the wall. The hole where she'd buried her acorn was still there.

"Wouldn't it have been neat if the sun reached down here, and the acorn grew?" Her head listed to the side so she could look at him as she spoke.

"It'd be a bit awkward for the floor above." Butler replied evenly. "But I'm sure it'd improve this place's feng shui no end."

Holly chuckled. "Juliet give you a lesson in interior design, did she?"

"Angeline, actually."


	15. Asking for Trouble

Apparently I've been reading too much Captain Evermind. And if you haven't been, I suggest you go do so.

* * *

Asking for Trouble

She was taking a quick breather on a bench in the hall when Trouble found her. Holly gave him a ruthful grin as he shook his nettle smoothie at her in mock consternation.

"Caught me sitting down on the job Trubs. You gonna reprimand me?"

Trouble smirked. "Now that's just asking for trouble isn't it? (Holly rolled her eyes at the intentional pun) Honestly, you're lucky I'm such a gentleman."

She punched his shoulder as he joined her on the bench.

Still grinning, he continued. "Speaking of me being a gentleman, I hand out ingots like they're going out of style to make sure you get home safe from another dimension, I let you run around in the past with that thieving little human of yours, getting up to Frond only knows what who knows when, etc, etc, and _you, _you can't even find the time to pick me up a souvenir?"

Holly gaped. "A souvenir?"

"Well, I mean, nothing big. I'm not looking for the pyramids here, Holly. Even one of those stupid "My best friend went time-travelling and all I got was this stupid t-shirt" t-shirts would've done the trick. But oh no! Nothing. Nothing at all!" Fighting to keep a straight face, he took a long, contemplative sip from his nettle smoothie. "But that's gratitude for you."

Holly pushed him off the bench. Listening to him choke trying to laugh through a mouthful of smoothie, she smiled. Sometimes, despite everything, it really was good to be home.


	16. Projecting Pt 1

Another two-parter.

* * *

Projecting

Artemis finished outlining his scheme with a flourish. He'd known Holly would hate it, so he'd taken pains to be extra charming. She hadn't fallen for it. The scheme or the charm.

"No, Artemis. Absolutely not. No way in _Hell. _I don't care how badly we need to catch Opal, I will _not_." Full of righteous anger she turned and threw herself out the door, slamming it behind her.

Butler remained silent and stoic behind him.

"I suppose that was to be expected. But she'll come around eventually. She always does." Artemis caught himself fidgeting with his cuff-links and hastily stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Don't worry about it, Butler."

Butler, to his credit, didn't crack even the tiniest smile as he responded. "Did I say I was worried, Artemis?"


	17. Projecting Pt 2

Meanwhile...

* * *

Projecting Pt. 2

Out in the hall, Holly flung herself into the nearest chair, a delicate loveseat under a high window. It creaked ominously under the impact. She glared it into good behaviour before crossing all her limbs and transferring her glare to the wall opposite, who cowered, leaning as far back as was structurally possible.

Minutes ticked by, desperate to get away from her.

Suddenly:

"Why are you angry?"

Two little boys had sat down on either side of her. Holly nearly jumped out of her skin. _Oh my god, the whole family can do the creepy silent walk. _

They didn't look a thing like Artemis, with their mother's gold curls and light blue eyes. "Your brother. That's why I'm angry." She responded at length.

Miles patted her arm consolingly. "That's understandable. He's very aggr'vating. Isn't he, Beckett?"

Beckett nodded sagely. "Yes." He replied solemnly. "Artemis simple-toon."

Holly blinked in honest befuddlement, then collapsed into giggles. Wiping away tears, she patted their cheeks. "If only he was, boys, if only he was."


	18. Upstairs Downstairs

Inspired by Ilex-ferox's _Anticipation. _I think that's really all that needs to be said.

* * *

Upstairs Downstairs

Downstairs:

Butler was reading a magazine when a rhythmic thumping began above him. He paused while turning his page, but it wasn't until the thumping ended in a resounding thud that he actually put the magazine down and looked up. There was a spare bedroom above him on the next floor up. He sighed, picking up his magazine again, it was probably only the twins playing hide and seek.

Upstairs:

"Oh Frond, we broke the bed! What are we going to tell your _parents_?" Holly's eyes were wide as she looked up at Artemis.

"What do you mean '_we_'? If I remember correctly it was _you _that said, and I quote, "That bed is huge! Our lives won't be complete if we don't take advantage of this". Artemis crossed his arms and looked as cold and dignified as it was possible to look when one finds oneself unceremoniously sprawled across a broken four poster bed."And _I _certainly wouldn't partake in such childish goings on as jumping on a bed if you hadn't threatened to punch me for being, and I quote again, "such a sissy"."

Holly pursed her lips. At times, Artemis telling the truth was even more irritating than Artemis lying.


	19. Checkmate

Because who doesn't wish Artemis would stop doing that to his hair?

Err, and yes, the closet theme does seem to have gone completely and irretrievably out the window.

* * *

Checkmate

Plenty of ignominious things had happened to Artemis Fowl II, not that he would admit to most of them. In the coming days he was sure he would deny his current situation as vigorously as all those previous.

Juliet let out a whoop of delight. "I've got his arms Holly. Go for it!"

He squirmed as his head was pushed into the sink. "For heaven's sake Butler, would you stop this?"

The massive Eurasian was shaking with laughter whilst taking up most of the doorway a few feet behind. "Sorry Artemis," he gasped "I wasn't trained for defence against unwanted beautification."

Holly positively cackled as she turned on the taps. She smeared shampoo onto her hands, rubbing them together to make a lather in a way that was strongly reminiscent of a mad scientist about to do open heart surgery.

"Arty, come one, seriously now, Minerva's French. They're a stylish people. You can't go out on a date with your hair slicked back like some... some" Holly groped for the appropriate reference.

"Some sleazy 1920's Chicago Mafioso grand-daddy." Supplied Juliet.

"Exactly." Holly nodded along as though she'd understood exactly what Juliet had just said. "So just sit back and enjoy the ride. It's not everyday people receive the honour of having me wash their hair." As pleasant as that did sound, it was somewhat less comforting when she began to hum a funeral march, inching her fingers closer and closer to his coifed hair.

"Competing in Europe wide chess competition is not a date!" Artemis gave one last feeble attempt to get himself out of this humiliating mess.

Holly cocked an eyebrow. 'Well, it's as close as you're going to get to one with hair like that!'

And then his head was under water and there were ten little fingers running over his scalp teasing the pomade out of his hair. All of a sudden, his complaints died off and having Holly wash his hair seemed like a brilliant idea.

Something of his sudden change of heart must have shown on his face because, as though from a very far off, he could hear Butler's guffaws get even louder. He was never going to live this down.


	20. Coming Out of the Closet take 2

This has actually nothing to to do with my other drabble of the same name. But it actually _is_ about coming out of the closet. Don't know where it came from, but it's been kicking around for a while. Mostly I just really love Butler, I think.

* * *

Out of the Closet v. 2.0

Juliet fidgeted with her sleeves as they walked up the slope towards the table laid for lunch. The Fowls were in high spirits from what she could see, laughing and smiling as though they were a normal family, with normal children. Like there wasn´t a phalanx of bodyguards waiting in the wings, even now.

Well, there was one who wasn't idling behind the scenes. Domovoi Butler sat beside Artemis, giving his young charge such a dry look that Juliet was sure Artemis had just said something particularly snooty.

Watching this scene of familial normalcy only increased her fidgeting. Nick leaned over to kiss her cheek.

'It'll be fine. They love you. They'll be great about it.'

Juliet fervently hoped so.

The happy group looked up as the couple reached them.

'Juliet!' Angeline smiled, rising to her feet. Butler beat her there, picking up his younger sister and nearly crushing her ribs. Artemis gave her a slight smile, his equivalent of an enthusiastic welcome.

When the hugging was done and the wave of chatter dying down, Artemis Sr. smiled, nodding to Nick. 'And who might this be, Juliet?'

_Showtime_. 'This is, um, Nick. Nicole. We've...we've been together for... for eight months and I thought, well, I really wanted you... to ...well, meet her.'

Silence.

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit._

Butler reached out and shook Nick's hand. With his best poker face he told her: 'You may be a girl, but I'll still break your legs, if you break her heart.'

Juliet shrieked in indignation, and relief, and smacked her giant brother. But Nick knew her lover well enough to know that was as close to a 'welcome to the family' as any stranger would ever get.


	21. The Service

This is for all the American tourists who came through the bakery I work at today and wanted their change back in American currency. Sorry to disappoint, but despite our servile and neo-colonial demeanor, Canada is in fact a separate country, with a different government (however poor), different laws, and different currency. I know this may come as a shock.

That said, I don't want anyone to take offense, because I know obnoxiousness comes in all nationalities (there's just more American tourists per capita here) and I honestly have nothing against Americans in general, but I needed to get that of my chest.

So, everyone, please love your waiter/cashier/bus driver/etc. They need it!

Err... now that my author notes are longer than the drabble, may I present: College!Holly.

* * *

The Service

Holly leaned back, working the cricks out of her neck with a grimace. Just as well she was going into policing, because she sure as d'arvit wasn't made out for customer service. If one more obnoxious redneck tourist from Atlantis asked for his change back in Atlanticean currency she really would punch them in the nose. To say nothing of the endless crying children or the unsubtle grabs at her ass. Frond, she hated being a waitress.

But what was a girl to do? Both parents dead, what money they left her gone to pay the painful tuition, she needed to feed herself somehow. And this job was just peachy keen compared to her cashier shifts at the deli on weekends. She groaned mentally.

_Girl_, she thought, smiling wryly, _you_ _need to find yourself a rich husband._


	22. Ask A Silly Question

Once again I seem to be drabbling in pairs, though the connection didn't even occur to me until I'd finished this one... What a clever girl. Anyway, shameless A/H going down here. And less than 100 words! A real drabble.

* * *

Ask A Silly Question...

The man straightened his starched cuffs as he leered at Artemis over his puff pastry canapé. 'I say, Fowl, what a beautiful wife you have got yourself. Quite one of a kind.'

'Yes. Quite.' Artemis wrinkled his noise slightly, wondering if this man could even _spell _nouveau riche_._

Dusting pastry flakes from his white gloves, the man winked, continuing. 'How on earth did you manage to get your hands on her?'

Artemis smiled his vampire smile. 'I kidnapped her.'


	23. Big My Secret

A really long one here, folks. Not usually one for songfics, reading or writing them, so this is probably as close as I'll ever get. I toyed with this idea for quite some time because I think the music thing is just a bit cheesy (like I've never done that before!) but I thought, oh what the heck. Also, Big My Secret is a real song, written by Michael Nyman, and is part of the soundtrack for the film The Piano. (Beautiful film, but watch it with tissues at the ready!) Also, the second piece, with the string orchestra is called The Scent of Love, off the same soundtrack. Also, sorry if my tenses get a bit messy, I kept getting confused while writing it..

ps. And is it just me, or are Ave and Vale just really attractive words? I kind of want to start using them in day to day life. Hmmm...

* * *

Big My Secret

Foaly hands her a disk. 'They found it in one of his safes, with directions to mail it to one of my above ground business fronts. What on earth is it?'

She shrugs, and slides it into the player.

* * *

'July 12th, 2008. Big My Secret, take one.'

The sound of finger joints cracking.

She had arrived via the window as he was finishing. The recording didn't pick up the sound of her boots landing on the sill, the slight hitch in her breath. They couldn't have picked up a spider scratching in Madagascar.

She had waited until the final flourished note to speak.

'What song is that? It's really pretty.' Nor could you hear her shimmer into the visible spectrum.

'Why hello.' You could hear his smile, however. 'It's called 'Big My Secret', I am doing a small recording project with it.'

'Recording? Are you recording now? Me? Sorry, Artemis, if I'd known-' the sound of her landing on the parquet floor.

'Yes, I am, and no, you don't need to apologise. You didn't interrupt the piece.'

'Oh.' Silence, then: 'Well, if that's the case...' scuffling as she hops onto the bench beside him 'would you play it again?'

'Of-of course.' Sounding surprised, he does so.

And again, and again, and again.

* * *

'September 21st, 2012. Big My Secret, take two.'

She had been there again, this time. You could hear her laughing in the background at something she could no longer remember.

A trilling, delighted take. He had been showing off for her.

* * *

'December 30th, 2020. Take three. I believe I shall simply keep recording this song until I die. To see how it changes of the span of a life. What do you think, Holly?'

An easy going, contented performance. Things were going well. Beckett had brought home his first girlfriend.

* * *

2027, 2032, 2040.

'August 14th, 2047.'

A slow, painful rendition. His mother had died the week previous, and his father would follow the Sunday following. And he was no longer young himself.

* * *

2053, 2059.

'February 12th, 2061. I didn't say so at the time, but I am glad you came.'

To the funeral. To Butler's funeral. Another sad performance, his fingers were heavier these days.

* * *

2068, 2077. The years between recordings had grown longer.

'September 1st, 2082. I believe this will be my final performance.'

She was there again. 'Don't say things like that, Artemis. It's your birthday for Frond's sake. You're supposed to be happy.'

'I am happy. You're here, aren't you?'

A pleased 'tsk'.

'But we must be honest, the only reason my fingers can still even press these keys is because of you.'

The recording is much better on this one, you can hear her shrug. 'Why be honest now? You never made a habit of it before.'

A sigh. 'Will you never forgive me for that?'

Laughter. 'I've forgiven you for everything you have ever done and ever will do, Artemis. Still doesn't mean I forget it.'

'You know, the composer wrote another song with the same theme. I prefer it, actually. Sadly, it involves a string orchestra towards the end or I would have played it for you, all these years.'

'What, you mean the great Artemis Fowl can't be play an entire string orchestra and a piano all at once? I'm appalled. '

Chuckling. Probably at her poor grammar.

A brittle piece this time around, his arthritic fingers aching to press the keys. But still beautiful, still rising up and filling the room like an ocean, high and clear and deep. Still ending with that triumphant finale, a musical biting of the thumb to his old age.

The click of the lid shutting, cutting off the echo.

A sigh, the rustle of her rising. He had held her by the arms as she prepared to go.

'Vale, Holly.'

'Your latin doesn't impress me Artemis.' Straining, you can just pick out the kiss she put on his forehead.

'I mean it though. Fare well, my friend.' He had looked about to say more, cradling her young face in his old hands. But he hadn't. His last words, ironically enough. He had died that night, alone in that old house.

* * *

Abruptly, Holly removes the disk from its slot. Foaly says nothing.

As the years pass, he continues to say nothing when new recruits ask him, arguing amongst themselves, what is that strange song they always hear playing in the background when they go to speak to Wing Commander Short?


	24. Let's Do the Time Warp Again!

So, I've been updating like a madwoman lately, but basically, I'm trying to get every last drop of fanfiction out of me in the next couple weeks because I am flying off to France for school come September and goodness knows when I'll get at a dependable internet connection. Anyway, hurrah! I'm excited! And I expect to find lots of lovely new fic to read when I get back on a computer (vague, threatening finger waving)!

As to the drabble, this is a conversation I really hope I get to read in canon (SEVERE TTP spoilers ahead, kiddies). Mine's a bit, well, less flowing, than I wanted it to be. Ah, well.

And now a disclaimer! Kelp suey shameless taken from Asper's The Doppleganger Effect. It was too brilliant a dish to pass up. And, of course, the title's from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

One last side note: in the realm of not fanfiction fiction, I'm reading some (more) Jeanette Winterson at the moment, and oh gosh guys, treat yourself and read her too.

* * *

Let's Do The Time Warp Again!

Holly sank back on her raggedy couch, sighing with delight. Slurping at her nettle smoothie, she looked over at her companion with an expression bordering on fondness. 'I'll probably regret this, but y'know Mulch, it's safe to talk now. Artemis and I went back and everything's worked out ok. Well, 'ok' may be severe hyperbole, but at least we're alive. Honestly, I can't believe you kept quiet this long! I'd have thought you'd be taking the piss from the first time you tunnelled into Fowl Manor.'

Mulch looked up from inhaling Holly's kelp suey. 'Err... is there something in that smoothie you're not sharing Holly? You two went back where?'

Holly blinked at him. 'In time, Mulch.' She enunciated the words with great care, her tone implying the word 'duh' with every syllable.

'Uh, still not getting you here, Capitano. You and the kid went back in time? When did _that _happen? Gods, no one tells me _anything_!'

'Ok, ha ha, you got me. Shucks, aren't you cute. You can stop now. Eight years ago, you got a note promising you a 'stupendous reward' if you rescued Artemis and I from the boot of the Fowl's Bentley. Re_mem_ber? For Frond's sake, you saw Artemis and I k- err... ' Her eyes darted back and forth as she thought of a cover story. 'I mean, I gave you the passcode to the LEP equipment lockup at Tara! Mulch, you stole _so much stuff._'

Mulch's eyes got suspiciously watery. 'The LEP equipment lockup?' he repeated hoarsely. 'At Tara? Holly, don't lie to me like this. I would never, _ever_ forget something like that.' He fell silent for a moment, his lips pursed as he thought.

'Then again, I did wake up once, about that long ago, above ground with the starterchip to an LEP shuttle in my hand and no idea where the shuttle was or how I'd gotten the chip. Put it down to being a bit heavy handed with the old algae ale at the time...but I wonder...' He paused again, his brain going over what she'd told him. His innate instinct for blackmail kicked into high gear. 'Wo-ah, but let's just back up a bit here, Holly. Why do I have the song 'You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling' playing in my head all of a sudden? I saw you and Artemis do _what,_ exactly?'

'No idea what you're talking about Mulch. We didn't do anyth- HEY! Give me back my kelp suey !'

She hoped the subject would be lost in the ensuing scuffle.


	25. Heartbeat

So, the idea for this comes from a tv series I used to watch called Heartbeat. It's been going for, like, a bajillion years. Anyway, there were these two characters, the Sergeant of the village police force and the ne'er do well jack of all trades petty thief with a heart of gold guy called Greengrass. The two of them were always at each other's throats, but once I watched a program about the program (yes, I am that cool) and the actor who played the Sargeant said: well yeah, they hate each other but at the same time, they can't live without each other. They're like an old married couple, always harping on the other.

Anyway, nigh on ten years later that little thought was still there and it reminded me of (guess who!) Mulch and Root. I'm pretty fond of this one, so I hope you enjoy it:)

* * *

Heartbeat

My thoughts on the late LEP Commander Julius Root? You've got me here, in this chair, you're plying me with food and drink, and you want to know about Julius Root? What about the time I infiltrated the Seven Dwarfs and helped the notorious human Artemis Fowl steal a priceless tiara right from under their hairy noses? Or my stint as the infamous thief the Grouch who terrorized mudmen all over the world? No? Julius, eh? Well. If you insist. Brilliant nettle brulée, by the way.

Julius now, Julius- man, if he could hear me saying his name like this, he'd go for me guns a-blazing- well, he was one of a kind. I mean, you'd have to be to survive blood pressure like that, good grief! And he did it to himself, let me tell you. _Talk_ about micro-managing. And no sense of humour. Not a good combination.

Cider? Yes, please!

Coincidental that my retirement from a life of crime coincides with his murder? Yes, I said murder. No, I won't refer to it as the 'tragic accident which could have been prevented by a more level-headed approach'. Frond, is that the spin you people are putting on it now? Sometimes, you d'arvitting rumour-mongerers really make me wanna puke. And dwarves don't puke lightly. Have you ever tried regurgitating compacted earth?

And no, to answer your question, it wasn't. Coincidental. Look, kid, you're pretty young, so this'll probably affront your sensibilities a bit but, well, let's put it this way: thievery was, well, my one true passion. I _lived_ to steal.

But he was the reason I stole.

And, let's face it, without him, there's just not Mulch left in it. Haha, get it, 'Mulch left'? Much left? Ok, so it wasn't very good, but it woulda gotten a rise out of Julius. I mean, he probably would've tried to garrotte me instead of chuckling appreciatively, but everyone shows affection in different ways, right? I mean, look at Holly: if she punches that kid in the nose one more time and she'll probably follow it with a proposal.

What d'you mean 'what kid'? 'You blind? No, clearly just kinda dumb. But, I guess, in all fairness, you don't really know them. Just like you don't-didn't-know Julius.

What? No, we weren't lovers. He was just... always around. You know, like that really ugly pair of trousers you just never threw out, or the mouldy cheese at the back of the fridge you swear you'll do something about. Or like... a heartbeat. Or a migraine.

It's funny though. I never thought it'd be this hard to live without him.

More cider? Why, no, don't mind if I do...


	26. Xs and Os

The result of too much Ani Difranco and occaisonally lame male friends. And _way_ too much love for A/H. Basically four drabbles that make a whole.

* * *

'Holly, honey, I'm so sorry. It's just, your mother and I… we just don't… well, get along, like we used to. And Lydia, well she's ...something else. And we'll still see each other at Winter Solstice, won't we now?'

Her father opened his arms and pulled her close, kissing her hair. Like hugging her tight could just make all the pain he'd caused vanish. Like it could make everything right. At the time, she was still young enough to believe it. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging back.

* * *

'Aw, Holly, buddy, I am _so_ sorry I missed your birthday. I know, I know you told me about the dinner weeks ago, it's just, I _finally_ got Lili to... er... well, you know. I did bring you a gift though!'

Holly looked askance at the Atlantian beer stein Troubl passed her. 'Don't worry about it Trubs. No problem.'

'You're the best Holly. I knew you'd understand. What a pal.' Trouble opened his arms and pulled her close, kissing her hair. Holly sighed and hugged him back so as not to hurt his feelings.

* * *

'Holly, baby, Narcissa- she was just a fling. Just a-a one night passing- oh don't look so sceptical, it's true, I swear. I'll never sleep with her again. I was drunk. Holly, I'm sorry. Aw, babe, no, don't-look, just come here.' Finn opened his arms and pulled her close, kissing her hair.

_Gods, _she thought,_ they really must think we're children. That for us poor females a hug and kiss'll just make everything better. For Frond's sake! Send me a man who knows better, and then we'll see._

She didn't bother hugging back.

* * *

'I realise that I have already apologized, but I really... I believe it bears repeating. I _am _sorry, Holly. For lying. I keep saying it and it never seems like enough. Probably because it isn't. I have this sinking feeling that I will be apologizing for the rest of my life and still die feeling guilty. I don't know what's gotten into me.' Artemis gave a disgusted sigh, his palms up in a gesture of helplessness.

There was a moment of silence. Holly frowned. Something was missing here. Oh yeah.

'Aren't going to, like, hug me, or something? You know, kiss away the pain?'

Artemis blinked at her. 'Well, I can, if you want me to.' He half rose from his chair. 'I just didn't see that it would make anything better.'

Holly gave a bark of laughter. 'No, no, sit down Arty, you're right.' When he looked away, Holly shook her head in despair. The gods, she decided, were real jerks.


	27. Association

My friend and I are trying to do a crossword, but have degenerated into random word association. This just occurred to me during the tomfoolery, so it's even more off the cuff than usual! I may have spelled the Paradizos' name wrong, but I'm not too fussed because I never much liked them anyway.

* * *

Association

They sat at dinner, he, Butler, and the Paradizos. A silent manservant with a nose like Gerard Dépardieu´s placed an exquisite china plate before him. It was so fine he could nearly see the tablecloth's embroidered pattern through it. The pudding had been moulded into the shape of a rose and tinged a delicate gold with, he presumed, saffron.

Looking at the innocent little dessert, Artemis suppressed a shudder. How was he going to explain to his hosts that, over a decade later, he'd still not quite gotten over the prologue to The Canterbury Tales?


	28. A Method to the Madness

Aaand another one. And just when I was sort of getting back into the closet theme too... Ah well.

PS. As to last chapter, it's a drabble after the style of ilex-ferox (because immitation really is the most sincere form of flattery), ie, it's a puzzle to figure out what the dish is. So, go forth and read Canterbury Tales, my pretties!

* * *

A Method to the Madness

'Have you ever noticed how _apt_ our names are?' they were sitting side by side in front of a projector, holding devices resembling a cross between a video game controller and a water pistol. Holly had taken it upon herself to teach Artemis some self defence. Or, failing that, at least how to aim.

'No. And that goblin's gonna KO you if you don't watch—wow, it's like I'm psychic.' Holly watched as TERMINATED! flashed red across Artemis' half of the screen.

'I'm being serious Holly. Take my name, for example. Artemis Fowl.'

'Virgin huntress of chicken?' Holly was paying nearly as much attention to him as he was to the game.

'No. I meant more along the lines of 'foul by name, foul by nature'. Foul with a 'u', that is. Or your name, Holly Short. Prickly and vertically challenged. Er... but with an aesthetically pleasing colour combination?' He amended when she raised a potentially prickly eyebrow at him.

She snorted.

'What about Mulch _Dig_gums? Or Butler! For heaven's sake, even a simpleton couldn't miss that,' he stroked his new and, it must be said, rather wispy, beard as his virtual self was once again annihilated.

'And just what, _exactly_, Master Fowl, are you getting at with all this?' Holly fought the urge to annihilate him herself.

'Well, it makes one think, doesn't it? About a higher force. About an _author_, if you would, to all this.' He waved his arm to encompass not only their surroundings but their entire history.

Holly sighed, thinking about said entire history. 'Well, here's hoping they'll mellow as they age. Write us a nice happy ending, maybe.'

'It's never too much to hope,' replied Artemis.

Holly snorted again. 'It is with you around.'


	29. Despair!

I was trying to write some original stuff, got broadsided by a sudden urge to read some new AF fanfiction, trawled about, found nothing to wet my appetite and decided to just write something myself. So, yeah, er, happy friday night?

(heavily influenced by AI, which I just reread)

In other news, I am so sunburnt I'm nearly on fire.

* * *

Despair

She raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. Waiting for him to blow her away with why this plan was just so incredible when all it sounded like was just an incredible pain in the derriere.

'Eh..' he began, 'er, now, Holly... you see...' This was his big moment. His big, eloquent, deal-clinching moment, and all he could say was _eh_? Artemis regarded her in horrified wonder. What was it about this woman that brought out all that was monosyllabic and nonsensical in him?

And he had been such a promising criminal mastermind as a child.

Sometimes he despaired for himself, he really did.


	30. New Heights

So, it appears there's nothing like an imminent French exam to get the creative juices flowing! Hurrah for procrastination. And free wifi in hotel lobbies. Sorry in advance for a) the flamingly large amount of A/H ness coming up (well, not too sorry) and b) any weird grammar. Jetlag is having its merry way with me. Violently.

Also, Holly's birthdate is a stab in the dark based off of she was past 80 in AI.

PS. Oh man, the cutest little German kids just arrived.

* * *

New Heights

The bed was extraordinarily comfortable. The mattress could almost be fairy-made. Still only half awake, she stretched her body out, smiling at his incoherent protest against the movement. On her back now, she gazed up at the ceiling and was reminded of the last time she had spent the night here, so long ago. She made a face.

_Holly Short, _she thought sardonically, _taking Stockholm syndrome to astonishing new heights since 1921._


	31. Karma

Speaking of weird grammar... I should have a sign, like in parks: Please don't feed the run-on sentences.

* * *

Karma

In the courtyard below my father whirls my mother about in an absurd bastardization of a waltz. They look so happy it is nearly criminal. The son in me is thrilled. The bitter teenager (against whose hormone fluxes I still wage war) wonders why my father is so very fortunate, to be loved by someone who is arguably a great deal better than he. Because, am I that much worse than my father that I cannot be granted the same?

Then again, when she comes through my window, unexpectedly, smiling and mocking and unfailingly violent, I become disturbingly sentimental and believe that perhaps I am more blessed than my father will ever be, simply because the woman I love speaks to me at all.


	32. Hypocrite

My first Timmy fic. Aww. Let's play spot the badly hidden shipping!

* * *

Hypocrite

I stand, unnoticed, in the doorway, watching my sons finger-paint. The twins have splattered Artemis with every colour in the rainbow and then some. He doesn't seem to mind. I remember him at their age, he had more sangfroid than a harden Mafiya leader. Actually, if I recall correctly, he was going through a Rembrandt phase at this age, positively churning out the forgeries. The epitome of a good little Fowl.

However, when put to it, I must confess I don't remember much from his childhood. I had more important things to do than worry about a son. He had a Butler, hadn't he? Oughtn't that be enough?

Now I watch that same Butler take liberties with my son that I wouldn't dare, the two of them working with a familiar intimacy from which I will always be excluded, and I curse my younger self. Oh, to be sure, Artemis loves me, eager to please, still wanting my approval, though he has long surpassed me.

Pontificating in all my new self-righteous glory, I tell him, 'Be a good man, son. Do the right thing, Artemis, be a hero.'

Though, let's be truthful now, my son could be the next Mahatma Gandhi and I would never know.

To my shame, I asked Butler once, is my son a good man? He winked at me in a confiding sort of way, replying, and I quote: 'Well, things were a bit touch and go when he was younger, but these days, I'd say yes, sir, he will be, in his own way. Though, you could argue that he'll become one whether he wants to or not. There's a lot of... well, let's say _positive reinforcement_ to his developing a more, er, rigorous moral outlook.' Then he walked off, positively cackling, leaving me to wonder what on earth he meant.

But, perplexing allusions aside, the meat of the matter is, my son has grown to be a good man, and it is certainly not because of me.

He feels my scrutiny, from where he lies on the floor, and his eyes rise to meet mine. He smiles, scrambling to his feet, not wishing to have his father see him in such a compromised position.

I have told him, 'Be a good man, son. Do the right thing Artemis, be a hero.' Who am I to tell him these things, I who couldn't even be a father? I watch him approach me now, and I know myself for a hypocrite.


	33. Living in the Conditional

Also, my first Caballine fic, I hope the last it makes sense, I wasn't sure if it worked out, but kept it in anyway, what the heck. In other news, the sunburn is successfully overcome! Because I realise you were all dying to know.

NB: it seems the studying is leaking out, the title is a play off the conditional tense (is that a tense in English? why yes, my knowledge of my mother tongue is less refined than my knowledge of French grammar), as in the 'would' tense.

* * *

Living in the Conditional

He rises early, as usual. I tell him, take the day off, darling, let's sleep in a bit. They owe you vacation time like nobody's business.

He wants to, I can see it in his face. But he shakes his head. I can't. What today's the day? What if they come back and I'm here and-

I make soothing noises and kiss him and he goes to work, as determined as ever that _today would be the day._

I know I should be more understanding. She's his best friend. His only friend, for a long while, I believe. I should be wishing for her safe return. And, somedays, I do.

Then sometimes I think, well, look how he obsesses over her now, because she's gone. Will it be even worse when (if) she comes back? Those days I hope she's lost for good, and know myself for an awful coward. But it's hard, vying for attention against a stranger who not only came first, but is currently an incredible anomaly in the time/space continuum. I mean, what's not to obsess about? He's only centaurian, after all.

I just hope that when (I truly do wish for it to be when and not if) she comes home, she understands that it's only for love of him, and can forgive me. And, because he adores her so, I can't help but love her too, and therefore believe that she will.


	34. Burn the Witch!

Once again my earnest attempt to Get Things Done was thwarted, this time by a sudden pun. Free warty witch nose if you can see how the title has anything to d with the story.  
Disclaimer: the title was inspired by the marvelous Monty Python.

* * *

Burn the Witch!

His newest business associate sat down across from him. The man was pleasant enough, all smiles, his swarthy face coming to a neat point in a clipped little goatee.

'Mr. Da Fé,' he began.

'Please,' the man interrupted, 'call me Otto.'

Artemis blinked. 'Of course. Otto.'

And people said _he_ had a strange name.


	35. The Plan

So, there's been a lot of drabbles about Artemis's plans for Holly lately, but they're all post and/or pre plan. So I decided to do a during plan drabble. Definitely partially inspired by ilex-ferox's The Challenge. Free something marvelous if you figure out the plan.

And let's face it, I wouldn't put this past Artemis.

* * *

The Plan

Idly, he ran his finger along the shelf, under the name tags.

_Agrimony for sores, Angelica for fevers..._

Even humans, depending on their immune systems, could be severely affected by herbal tonics.

_Peppermint to settle the stomach, nettle for just about anything..._

For her and her ilk, with their heightened sensitivities, the affects should be even more pronounced.

_Blackberry for all manner of things... Ah! Here we are, Cacao. And now only..._

He'd done some calculations, run a few tests. What with her slight body mass, just a small dosage should produce the desired affect. Small enough that she wouldn't be able to taste it, hopefully. But then again, even if she did detect it, would she realise his ploy? This wasn't exactly in keeping with his usual schemes, after all.

_Camellia to clear the skin... and yes, here we are, Caraway._

Now to find the oysters.


	36. Cooking for Company

Artemis' Plan continues. It's a trilogy. One for each of our fearsome threesome. On that note, I'm not quite sure Butler would actually say 'good grief' but we're going to go with it. Also, apologises for whacked out punctuation coming up. Sometimes I punctuate visually instead of grammatically...

* * *

Cooking for Company

Master Artemis had always had very, shall we say: unique? tastes for his age, culinarily speaking. Though he usually left meals in Butler's hands, there had of course been, over the years, the occasional request. After all, Artemis could never leave something _entirely_ up to someone else.

This however, was something different. _This_ went beyond mere momentary whim.

Cacao? _Oysters?_ Apparently, Artemis had no sense of cohesion; good grief, _how_ was he supposed to make complimentary dishes out of all this? And, moreover, Artemis didn't even _like_ caraway.

Butler eyed the packets in front of him as though they were personally responsible for AIDS, air pollution, and the Second World War. He had a bad feeling about this. _Someone_ was going to get hurt. And it would probably be Artemis.

He sighed, and got to work.


	37. Playing for Keeps

Holly throws a spanner into the works.

That said, if you're not big on blatant innuendo, this is not the drabble for you. And, just so everything's clear, cacoa, caraway and oysters are all aphrodisiacs. Well, caraway also just 'attracts love', but, if you're feeling cynical...

* * *

Playing for Keeps

Holly polished off the last of her desert with customary zeal. 'I wish I could convince Butler to come cook for _me_,' she sighed, 'I am s_o _way more fun than you.'

Artemis gave a vampiric smile. 'Is that so?'

'Mm hmm,' her eyes were hooded as she matched his smile and raised him an incisor.

Silence at the table. But there hadn't been much talking that night.

'Artemis,' Holly said at last, lazily tracing the lip of her glass with a finger, 'did you really think I wouldn't notice what our dinner was made of?'

His poker face was truly marvellous. 'What on earth do you mean, Holly? You seemed to enjoy it.'

She showed _all_ her teeth with this one. 'Oh, I did. If it's going to be this tasty, you've license to manipulate all your shrivelled little heart desires. But just remember Arty, that doesn't mean you'll _get_ what you want,' She pushed away from the table, vaguely unsteady on her feet and came around the table towards him. His jaw tightened involuntarily. She leaned forward and-

-patted him on the cheek. 'Did you really think I was going to roll over _that _easily?' She snorted at her own joke, before continuing, 'now excuse me please, I need to go stick my head under a very, _very _cold tap.'

'Holly, consider-'

'Uh uh, Mud Boy,' she wagged a finger remonstratively, weaving slightly as she walked. Making it successfully to the door she paused, grinning again. 'Maybe next time.'

Artemis didn't have to be a genius to take that hint.


	38. The Seduction of Holly Short

This is for JuliennePotato. As a break from my recent bout of over the top shipping.

* * *

The Seduction of Holly Short.

'Oh-h, it's beautiful. You shouldn't have! I- I don't know what to say...' Holly's eyes went wide as he passed her the small black box.

'Now, there's a first,' Foaly snickered, watching her clutch the slim and shiny body of the new dual barrel Neutrino 3042 to her chest.


	39. To Talk of Many Things

The end product of a day spent attempting to study. A thought I'd been kicking around for a while. If turned human, like Opal, would fairies be able to speak tongues? I mean, obviously Opal could speak Italian, so would they be able to speak only languages they'd already spoken and just lose the rest, or..? I mean, because if you use a language, that's knowledge not magic, so would it stay in the brain anyway? Needless to say, this one's a bit strange. Feel free to mock my french grammar. Also, apologies for any double messages/reviews/replies I've sent out, internet is **super** sketch right now. And, once again, my punctuation is trying to ape speech/thought patterns so it'll be wierd.

Title belongs to the walrus.

* * *

The Time Has Come to Talk of Many Things.

_Si tu avais pensé avant de sauter, cela n'aurait pas arrivé._

Opal rested her pointed chin in the palm of one manicured hand, watching her other self struggle with the basic French grammar. Talk about boring.

_Les choses dont tu parles se sont perdues il y a long temps._

What on earth had possessed her? A human pituitary gland? _Gross. _And now just look at her, fumbling like a mud child with simple sentences. Never mind invisibility or the mesmer, to loose even the gifts of tongues?

_Je pensais à d'autres choses quand tu as venu me visiter, ma chérie. _

Absolutely disgraceful. Opal shook her head in disgust. That _she_, Opal Koboi, should be so humiliated! It was a fate she wouldn't wish on her worst enemies.

Wait! What was she _talking_ about? It was a brilliant fate for her worst enemies! ... At least, those not already afflicted. She leaned back, her eyes narrowed in delicious contemplation of this sudden inpiration.

_L'ombre est toujours le plus foncé avant l'aube._

Her human self looked up, knowing her so well, and grinned in anticipation.


	40. To Veal or Not To Veal

My oh so subtle attempts at vegetarian propaganda and really atrocious Shakespearean puns.

PS. No, you don't need to understand the French in the last one to get it.

PPS. Just found out that I now live _down the street_ (ok, a few blocks away, but still) from Gustave Doré's childhood home. I am so stoked.

To Veal or Not to Veal

Artemis prodded the veal on his plate morosely. He couldn't help himself, he knew it was wrong and cruel and etc, etc, but he_ loved_ veal.

However, his dietary habits had caused scenes before, most famously when Holly had come over after a dinner of grilled venison. Needless to say, said scenes were something he was keen to avoid. It wasn't that he worried about defending his clearly lower moral ground, simply that things tended to get broken during these arguments, usually him. Not to mention, it was a waste of what little time they had together. And Artemis Fowl II was many things, but not wasteful.

He groaned inwardly, willing to gamble quite a lot that veal would cause even more of a ruckus than venison. Unobtrusively, he checked his watch. Two hours until sunset. It wasn't enough time. She'd still be able to tell.

He gave the veal one last mournful look before spearing a bean and eyeing it thoughtfully. Would she know it had shared a plate with, as she had once put it, 'festering carrion'? No, surely not. But still ...

'Arty darling, aren't you hungry?' Angeline looked up at her son's untouched plate, 'I thought you loved veal.'

Artemis glared balefully whilst Butler, who knew all about the night's upcoming entertainment, fought hard to keep a straight face.


	41. Keeping Up Appearances

Yeah, I know he died. I still love him.

I'm pretty sure I made enough really dreadful jokes about it for you guys to figure out his current, er, situation in life. If not, I will explain.

* * *

Keeping Up Appearances

Root fingered the pamphlet in his pocket somewhat self-consciously as he left the Post Corpus Rec. Centre. After all, he'd always steadfastly maintained that these after-the-fact apparitions were unforgivably tacky. And taking a class on them? Downright ridiculous. But that had been before.

He sighed, why couldn't she just let him rest in peace?

To be honest, it was partially his fault. He could admit to that. He'd gone down to his favourite pub (the Davie Jones, right next to that swanky new eatery Elysian Meals), sat down in his favourite leather booth (leather was something he would never have gone near before, but it kind of seemed like they were all in the same boat now) to watch something some Real Time Entertainment Network on their big screen. It was a neat system they had going, one giant screen but millions of possible viewings. And everyone saw what they wanted to see, no fighting to change the channel. Foaly would die for technology like this. _Literally_, Root chuckled to himself.

But instead of just channel surfing, maybe a bit of live action Mud Man drama, oh no, he'd gone and looked her up. You know, just to see how she was getting on. What an idiot. It had even taken a while to get a channel with her because, surprise, surprise, she'd been doing something (most likely illegal) with the time stream. Talk about static!

Voila mistake number one.

Mistake number two was, when greeted with the sight of her in a cage with an enraged bull gorilla, (somehow he failed to be at all shocked by this) he kept watching. And let me tell you, the gorilla was just peachy compared to the mess she got herself into afterwards. His molars started grinding just thinking about it. What had she been _thinking?_

Which brings us back to the apparition classes. According to the flyer he'd be good enough to stay solid for up to five minutes in three weeks, with the possibility of full surround sound capabilities by the end of the month. And then, _then_ he would give her a tongue lashing like she wouldn't be_**lieve**_!


	42. Insult to Injury

Not so sure on the quality of this little guy, but hey! what the heck, I don't think much has been said on this particular escapade.

* * *

Insult to Injury

Their heads swung as though on one axis, from the diminutive elf before them, to the now smouldering wreckage of the projector, then back to elf. There were reasons why the LEP had never employed a female officer before, and this was a perfect example of all of them. Extreme violence, gut reactions, engagement at an overly emotional level. Not to mention being too clever by half.

They regarded, what was her name again? ah yes, _Short_, with evident discomfort. Here was exactly the sort of civil servant, never mind her gender, that could spark _change; _one who might actually sally forth and _get things done_. A true _field officer, _the sort whose paperwork was always years late_. _Their inner bureaucrats shuddered at the very thought.

And the kicker was that they would have to pass her because according to their own rules and regulations she had done as asked. It was adding insult to injury it was, passing her exam like that.


	43. Avénusir

This is a puzzle one. I'm not as sly as ilex-ferox so it's a bit sloppy, apologies, but here's a hint: the French verb 'avénusir' is, in fact, very new (only once witnessed in publication by my profs, in, surprise! a French science magazine) and is a spinoff of the verb 'atterrir'. In the same vein there is also 'amerrir' and 'alunir'. So go forth and translate and figure out what Artemis has done now. You'll be shocked, I'm sure /sarcasmsarcasmsarcasm.

* * *

Avénusir

It was while reading a French article on interplanetary travel that a freshly coined verb, describing an action only lately achieved, reminded Artemis of one of his own recent achievement. It was a remarkably fitting term for either event, he had to admit, however seemingly unconnected. The triumphs involved were little more than metaphors for one another; if, that was, his was taken in a more, well..._ classical_ light. And truthfully, the subjects of both cases were strikingly similar, figuratively speaking.

Not to mention the perceived impossibility, by all parties concerned, of the acts in question! After all, the subjects' fiery natures were but another of their shared traits.


	44. Fairy Godfather

Yeah, more sequel!drabble. I just like Root, what can I say?

Quick note for the last Root chapter, there was confusion? If so, he was in the afterlife. And for Avénusir, Marie was right, basically it means to land, gain land, or in this case gain Venus. So basically, yes, Artemis got the girl. Ie. Holly.

For ilex, the TGV was not as fast as Deutche Bahn, I was sad.

* * *

Fairy Godfather

'What under the earth _possessed_ you? Are you absolutely _insane_? Words fail me Short, they really do. I thought I had seen you do stupid things, but this! _This _beats all. Even Grub Kelp has more sense than to- to- I don't even want to say it out loud. I will not tolerate this sort of behaviour from my officers. When I told you to go find Artemis I did _not_ mean go find his _tonsils_.'

Holly blinked confusedly at him, and his face softened.

'Holly, look, I _know_ you've gotten attached to these humans, but he is going to break your heart; if not by his usual methods of being a completely immoral ponce then by simple old age_. _ Holly, for once in your life have a little sense and...'

The clock on the wall dinged the hour.

'Oh, not already!' he growled, 'D'arv-' and vanished.

Holly rubbed her eyes vigorously, staring at the space so recently vacated by the late Commander Julius Root. Funny, she didn't _remember_ falling asleep.


	45. I Cannot Take You

So, the next three were written under the influence of an extreme head cold, so they may be a bit iffy, especially grammatically. I'm sorry if they don't make much sense. Also, apparently, being sick makes me appallingly mushy, so lots of drippy shipping coming up. Though, that could also be blamed on my habit of rereading Pride and Prejudice when bed-ridden...

This one was based off the song Fonder Heart by Anais Mitchell, the first line is hers. Yes, it's about Artemis and Holly.

* * *

I cannot Take You

_If I cannot take you for a liar or a lover, I will take you for my brother in arms._

She holds his wrinkled face in her hands and cradles him to her, like a mother with her child. When had this happened, this frailty, this age? When had his life gone by without telling her?

_Oh you are a liar, saying I will be alright._

Once upon a time, he had told her that he would be her ruin. They had laughed afterwards, pretending it wasn't true. Now he smiles and says she will be fine. He is still an accomplished liar for she nearly believes him, even as she sits there, holding him.

_Oh you are my lover, though I never lay next to you._

It's too late now to undo all those buttons and map what lies beneath. It's too late now to do what she didn't dare to before. So instead she sits there, holding him, amidst the ruins of a phantom love.

_Oh you are my brother, for you fought beside me._

It's too late now, and so she will have to settle for that.

_Oh you will be my ruin, and I will be glad, so long as I may hold you._


	46. All's Fair

And we have contact! Mostly for Asper who asked what it would take for some happy funny romance. It's nearly happy, and vaguely funny. I'm trying here! Ha, naw, I just kind of needed something a bit silly to cheer me up. Follows on the heels of the Plan trilogy.

* * *

  


All's Fair

His legs hurt. His back hurt. His nose felt like it had cotton stuffed up it. Needless to say, Artemis Fowl II was not a happy boy. 'Ugh' was about the only thing he'd said all day, and that had been him at his most expressive. It was humiliating as well as simply uncomfortable. But, being the world's foremost socialist, the common cold did not discriminate: even criminal masterminds got sick.

Not only that, but now, oh joy, oh rapture, here was someone come to witness his disgrace. And it was not a someone also bringing him soup and a sympathetic ear, like, say, Butler or his mother. Indeed, he had been quite alone in the manor until now: Myles was having his first violin recital in town.

No, this was one particularly diminutive, derogatory, and distressingly delightful creature by the name of Holly Short. And yes, ill though he may be, he could still alliterate. One has to keep oneself amused somehow.

'Ugh?' He inquired as she landed on his bed, not even wrinkling the sheets.

'Right back at ya, Arty. You feeling a bit under the weather there, O buddy-mine?'

There was something about Holly that, when she began to speak in an overly amicable manner, one had the strongest presentiment of imminent pain, usually of an excruciating variety. It was odd, really.

'What're you doing here?' he managed at length, ignoring her poorly concealed, mocking smile.

'What am I doing here he asks? Why, I am here, Artemis dearest, to make you feel all better. Isn't that nice of me?' Again with the smile. Her incisors were the stuff of nightmares. ... that is to say, well, hmm, perhaps not nightmares_ exactly_.

'Why?' He was all too aware that his much beloved 'archly disbelieving' stare was not currently at its most potent.

'Well,' she cocked her head to the side, eyeing him for a moment, 'I thought I'd return the favour. Last week's dinner having been, after all, just ever so tasty.'

_I am a dead man, _thought Artemis. There were times when the psychological security offered by verbal embellishment fails utterly. This was one of them.

She scooched forward until her knees rested against his pillow. Her smile softened momentarily, becoming closer to the one he associated with her about to forgive him for having done something incredibly dumb. Dumb in this instance meaning cruel, selfish, insensitive and/or possibly horrendous.

However, even this more tender expression did not disguise the fact that she was sitting very, very close to him. Close enough to inflict massive bodily harm, to get straight to the point. Though, he had to admist, arguably even more distracting than possible GBH was that she was also close enough to, well... Artemis bit his lip while simultaneously trying to look suave and wholly at ease. Difficult.

And then, of all things, she laughed at him. Affronted, he had the makings of a truly disparaging frown on the go when she ruined it all by going even further and kissing him. He promptly forgot even the meaning of the word disparaging.

Her trademark blue sparks put in an appearance, flitting from lip to lip and into his skin, burning away the headache, the stuffy nose, the sore throat. In any other situation, he would have found the process fascinating (stupefying surgeries, time travel _and_ the common cold? Think of the marketing possibilities) but the only coherent thought in his mind was: _breathe or keep kissing her? Difficult, difficult._

It's entirely possible that Artemis Fowl II would willingly have suffered death by asphyxiation. The world may never know. For now however, just as the matter came to a head, Holly took the initiative and broke away. This seemed like a remarkably bad idea to Artemis, even with possible oblivion waiting in the wings. When he took it upon himself to inform her of just how incredibly foolish a plan this truly was, she only laughed again and adjusted her wings, preparing to leave.

His sinuses back in working order, he donned his most authoritative glare, 'You are not simply going to leave, are you?'

That soft, fond smile flickered back to life for a moment and her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. But some inner dictator reared its head and her expression hardened, 'Yep, 'fraid that's right, Arty, I'm simply going to leave.' The incisors were back.

It was almost comical really, watching her try to out-manoeuvre him. If she intended to lose his interest by acting in opposition to her nature, she hadn't a hope in hell. Not only was she a terrible actor but, instead of finding it repellent, he found it oddly charming. And she was doing herself no favours, venturing into the arena of psychological warfare. Nervous, hormonal teenage boy he may be, but there at least he was still very much at the head of the game.

As she perched on the window seat peering out at the pouring rain, Artemis regarded her with a gentleness as previously alien to him as her newly developed tendency for manipulation was to her. Funny, the things they lent each other.

'Well, at least stay and have some tea then,' out of her depth or not, if she wanted to play, play he would, 'hot chocolate? It's dismal outside, Holly.'

'Yeah...' Holly grimaced, 'D'arvit...'

Artemis swung out of bed feeling positively chipper, 'Hot chocolate then. I've been drinking broth for days now.' He managed not to smile as she shrugged off her wings. Now, where had he left that cacao...?

After all, one good turn deserves another.


	47. On Loan

Ok, is it just me, or was that some serious coincidence? Just a thought that'd been niggling. Last line's a quote from TTP, can't tell you what page...

* * *

On Loan

He flipped the iris cam between his fingers like a coin. Yet another piece of technology he'd squirreled away from Foaly, this one hidden in a bank vault seldom opened, buried deep among things of infinitely greater value. After all, the techs had been sweeping for information before the wipe, not a singular tiny coloured contact lens. And truth be told, Artemis himself had forgotten the cam's existence until today, when his mother had brought home a packet of jewels and discovered it.

Holding the lens up to the window he watched the light pass through it, becoming green and gold, mottling his skin as though he stood in a forest. All the worry this little thing had cost... Spiro would never even have noticed the difference now.

He shook his head wonderingly at such ridiculous foreshadowing: a partial loan of her eye before he was given the real thing?

Though, in between, there had been that awful waste... He paused, considering.

Would it be the same this time around? A partial loan of her love before he was given the rest? And in between, the feeling of such an awful waste...

_Extraordinary,_ he thought, _what have I lost?_


	48. Devilishly Attractive

Voiceover: It was a time of great productivity for the author...

truth be told, there's just not much else to do but write when lying in bed at all hours. PS. I can't remember if the line is actually 'devilishly attractive' or 'devilishly handsome' so,if I'm wrong feel free to mock. (I'm without my library currently)

Plus, wahoo, first ever Vinyáya fic, does she rock or what?

* * *

Devilishly Attractive

Wing Commander Vinyáya was known throughout the upper echelons of Haven law enforcement as a cool, calm and collected woman. A force to be reckoned with. She had blazed her way through secret services, before at last landing the high profile Section 8 job. It was rumoured she'd make council head before the century was out. The second woman ever.

Despite the oddity of her being the only female for miles around (until the arrival of the late Julius Root's firebrand protégée, of course), and her lifelong career as a G-woman, her co-workers remained mostly in the dark about the private life of Wing Commander Vinyáya. Though, perhaps it helped that said colleagues usually considered 'private life' in her case to mean 'bedroom'. And to be fair, a great deal of effort had been put into the discovery of _that_, though with a notable lack of success.

Truth be told, the only one of her associates who had known anything about either her private life or her bedroom was, in fact, the late Julius Root.

Vinyáya ran her finger along the picture's silver frame. It was from so long ago, a holiday to Atlantis, back when his face still remembered colours like tan, peach and rose. They were holding each other, and laughing. But what would people have said? Corruption in the system no doubt, freebies to the newly appointed LEP commander's pretty young lover, just another secretary sleeping her way to the top. In the end, it had been too much for her pride and they had ended it, if not happily, at least amicably.

Centuries later, here she was, still alone. It was a cold comfort that at least he had never taken another lover either; especially now that he was gone. If she had known the heartbreak his death would cause, even now, so long after, might she have gone back to him? Might she never have left him? Who could know.

Smiling self-consciously, she gave his youthful, laughing face a flitting kiss. His promotion had not done his health any favours. His subordinates might have been shocked to hear it, but oh how devilishly attractive he'd been.


	49. Third Time's the Charm?

Another take on the whole Root/Vinyáya issue... (one hundred words exactly, my pretties! perhaps the first time ever)

* * *

Third Time's the Charm?

Vinyáya sits across from his door, trying to keep still. Today was the day. Today she would ask him: Would you like to come out for-

The door opens, oh no, d'arvit, she's not ready yet, she hasn't memorised exactly what she's going to say, what if-

'Er... hello Vinyáya. Can I do anything for you?' the sight of her makes him pause in the doorway.

'No!' her voice squeaks, 'Er, no. No, I was just, um, resting. But, I'll be on my way now... er, bye.'

Root watches her leave in confusion. That was the second time this week.


	50. That Is To Say,

These next two drabbles are inspired by, and dedicated to, ilex-ferox who is just pretty much fabulous (feel better!).

* * *

That Is To Say,

No. 1 sat down next to Artemis as the tech crew prepared to leave, 'You look sad Artemis. Downcast, despondent, disheartened. Why?'

Artemis raised his head. He'd meant to look straight at the demon beside him but somehow his eyes misconstrued his mind and fixed themselves on Holly, standing some distance away.

Often oblivious, but at times shockingly insightful, No. 1 nodded solemnly, 'I see. By which I mean, comprehend, grasp, cotton onto. Man and elf going through marital strife?'

Artemis nodded, smiling despite himself.

'Difficult. Complicated, tricky, problematic.'

'Very.'

The two were silent for a moment of contemplation. But No. 1's unshakeable faith in Artemis was never far off, so he grinned and patted the boy's shoulder, 'Don't worry. You're _Artemis Fowl_. You can do anything. Accomplish, achieve,' then he paused, eyeing Holly, 'or perhaps, mend, repair, patch up. Either way, you'll do fine. That is to say, you are competent, capable, proficient,' he gave Artemis a confident smile before hopping off.

Artemis sighed dejectedly. He wished he _felt _competent, capable and proficient.


	51. Crossing Words

No.1 strikes again...

* * *

Crossing Words

Holly gnaws her lip thoughtfully. The action catches No. 1's attention and he moves closer to look over her shoulder.

'Five across: refutation,' he reads aloud. 'Denunciation, refusal, denial,' he eyes Holly, 'how apropos.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing! And six down is wrong, it's 'starcrossed', as one word, not 'predestined',' he smiles brightly.

Holly's chin falls into her palm. As much as she loves him, No. 1 takes all the fun out of doing crosswords.


	52. For Your Eyes Only

Ok, this is definitely a personal favourite, so I hope you guys like it.

WARNING: vague reference to mature subject matter!!

You know, just in case any of you were worried...

* * *

For Your Eyes Only

Foaly tapped the screen with an agitated finger, 'Well?' he turned to his hirsute companion, '_Well?_'

Mulch rolled his eyes, 'Keep your tail on pony boy, I'm digesting, I'm digesting.'

'Well, quit digesting and help me think of a plan. What are we going to _do?_'

'Some bleedin' genius you turn out to be. The going gets a little bit tough and it's Oh Mulch! Help me! Please, Mulch!' the dwarf adopted a twittering falsetto.

Foaly smacked him with a handy piece of expensive gadgetry that, under normal circumstances, he would never even have let Mulch look at. 'Quit fooling around, you noxious and obnoxious little sewage-guzzler! This is serious!' Getting a hold of himself, Foaly took a deep breath. If they were going to work together, he had to control his temper.

'Watch it horse-face! These hairs are sensitive field equipment!' Mulch also took a calming breath. 'Right, ok. You say this came off Holly's iris-cam from her last visit topside?'

'Yeah, she put the cam on two days ago for a run to Kigali and she's been in the field ever since, so I guess she must have forgotten she had it in. And I wasn't running her live... during this... er, because last night was, well, at least, it was _supposed_ to be, just a bit of maintenance work and the ritual. Plus I thought she could do with a bit of down time after two days of live feed.'

'Shyeah, who wouldn't need down time after two days of you whinnying in their ear?' Mulch snorted, 'Not to mention it's understandable that she coulda been a little bit, heh, distracted by all that maintenance work, yeah?' he leered at the screen.

Foaly glowered, 'Not. Funny.'

'Aw, common, it kinda is... and, I mean, admit it, it's just the tinsiest bit cute, don't you think? Go on, not even a wee bit...? No? Fine, well, ironic at least, you've got to give it that. Though, can't say much for her taste, Fowl's skin is just so _pasty.' _He paused, eyeing the screen before wrinkling his nose and continuing, '_All_ of it, apparently.'


	53. Caught Red Handed

Ok, so, decided to go play with the idea that Opal really did have her wicked way and changed Holly's species. Definitely brought on by reading JuliennePotato's stunning 'Adrift'.

* * *

Caught Red Handed

'Did you sleep well?' Butler asked, glancing at her over his newspaper.

'Oh! Uhh, yes. Like a log,' Holly nodded emphatically, reaching for a plate. _Frond_, was she hungry.

'Really? Ha, erm, well, I'm, ah, glad to hear it.' Something in his tone caught her attention and she looked up to find him eyeing her neck and fighting down a smile. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks as she slapped a hand over the mark. He immediately returned to his paper, whistling innocently.

_Just great_, she thought as she helped herself to toast, _in this state, I'm gonna have that bruise for days. _And then,_ Oh Frond, what will his mother say?_


	54. Dream On

More of the same.

* * *

Dream On

Holly threw down the newspaper in disgust; why couldn't Opal have turned her into a parakeet or tortoise or something? _Anything._ 'Artemis,' she prodded her companion with a toe, 'you're gonna have to do me a favour.'

'Oh, yes?'

'Yeah. World domination. How does that sound to you?'

The boy made a slight moue, pretending to think, 'Fine with me. Are you thinking of following in Opal's tyrannical footsteps? Shall I have Butler look into a new wardrobe for you? Clothes more appropriate for the Empress of the World?'

'Go jump a lake, Arty,' she made a face. 'It's just,' gesturing to the paper, 'this species, it's so _awful_. I figured we could whip it into shape. You know, for its own good and all that crap.'

He raised an eyebrow.

'Oh, just... just buzz off, you know I'm not serious,' she sighed, slumping into the pillows. 'Why d'ya have to rain on my parade like that? A girl can dream can't she?'

_Fair enough_, he thought. After all, his had come true, hadn't it?


	55. Only Human

Same same again, and because Artemis isn't really the best guy sometimes.

* * *

Only Human

I watch her before me, lying in the grass with my brothers. She dances, she smiles, she laughs, but she is not happy. The boys look away and her eyes close and the sun slides off her skin, unable to find purchase where there is so much pain. When I see this, the air in my lungs becomes a fist and my body clenches involuntarily, unable to breathe.

And yet...

It must be owned to that, in an attempt to ruin me, Opal Koboi did me the greatest favour of my life. My, isn't that ironic. Of a certainty, she devastated Holly, but Holly will recover. Does that sound callous? Probably. However, the reality is that Holly enjoys living too much to waste it, especially now that her life has been so drastically shortened. Besides which, I will feed her and clothe her and care for her until we are both nothing more than sagging flesh and dusty bones, so she will have no reason to ever worry. See now, isn't that noble?

Therefore, let it not be said that I don't love her. Quite the contrary, it could be argued that I love her too much. Wouldn't I be more willing to find a cure for her situation if I had no vested interest in her staying human? Most likely. Which isn't to say I don't try; of a certainty I do. Just not, perhaps, with the utmost enthusiasm. And, if I never find a cure, well, she will forgive me. She always does. So, I will admit, there are times when I think, _well_...

Let me put this way: I love her, I want her, and I want her to stay with me. I did not change her, but I was perfectly willing to let another do my dirty work. Heartless, manipulative fiend? Perhaps. But who does not secretly dream of being granted their unattainable lover, whatever the cost? And who, once granted this wish, could ever give them back?

They say love is selfless. Alright, fine. When I am shown proof of that, then I will admit to being a most Fowl most foul.

But the truth is, I believe, simply that I am only human.


	56. Unrequited

In a completely different vein... I've always wanted to write an unrequited Lili love story so, yeah... here you go.

* * *

Unrequited

'Alri-ight, you're all set,' Lili patted Holly's extensions in their new 'do.

With a heartfelt Thanks! Holly dashed out of the loo and off to her dinner, thinking that maybe having Lili around wasn't so bad after all.

Last living descendent of the Frond dynasty, and the LEP's most wanted piece of ass, Lili Frond wrapped a strand of auburn hair around one slim finger and sighed. Sure, she got around, why not? After all, it wasn't like she was ever going to get what she actually wanted.

Carefully, she wound the hair up and tucked it into her pocket.


	57. The Disappearing Act

Yes, a one sentence drabble. Ta da! And, though I was never huge on her, I did wonder where she went to...

* * *

The Disappearing Act

It wasn't that he minded per se (goodness knows he had enough issues with the opposite gender at the moment, the last thing he needed was another female, of any species, in his life), but, cursor blinking over her address, he couldn't help but wonder why Minerva had never written him back.


	58. No White Bull

Back to my other favourite ship... it didn't start out with the greek theme, that sort of came later, though am reading Racine so, I suppose it's to be expected.

As always with J/H, a nod to Ophelia who isn't around any more but wrote the first one I ever read.

* * *

No White Bull

'I want you to stay,' she said. She stood in the doorway, wrapped in their sheets and looking like a Greek heroine. Ariadne perhaps, who had loved and been left.

'You know I can't. I've got to be in the Tijuana shuttle-port by one.' Her companion didn't look up from strapping on her wings. 'I'll barely make it as it is.'

'Do they know?'

'About us? What do you think? How could I tell them...?' Holly's voice cracked, broken by the wish to tell the world just how beautiful her lover was, standing there in the doorway.

Maybe she was Phedre, who had loved that which was not allowed.

Her shoulders slumped, 'No, of course not. I know.' Juliet rearranged her sheets and Holly watched her skin advance and recede, insatiable.

Looking away, Holly climbed onto the window sill, making unnecessary last minute adjustments. Juliet moved forward, catching her face and running a thumb along the line of her tiny jaw. Holly closed her eyes, feeling every ridge and dip of her skin.

'One day, you'll be able to stay, and everyone will know and no one will care.' Juliet held those small hands in hers as the visor slid shut and an alien, streamlined being faced her, so different from the warm body she had held only moments before.

Unheard, Holly's breath caught in something very like a sob as she vanished into the night.

Juliet watched the moon sink over the scraggly skyline of Mexico City knowing that, whoever she was, she was not Pasiphae, whose love had made a monster.


	59. Staring Into Space

I just miss Root. A lot.

* * *

Staring Into Space

'She'll go far, Julius. I know you had your doubts, but she's going to make a fabulous officer,' Vinyáya swills the liquid in her glass. 'And I'm not just saying that because I told you to take her on beforehand.'

Julius nods, 'No, you were right, of course. You _are _right. She's going to be good. Reminds me a bit of you, when you were that age, actually.' He gives her sly smile.

Vinyáya doesn't return the smile, she's staring off into space. Into another time and place. 'To tell you the truth, Julius, she reminds me of the daughter we never got to have.'

Root swallows, licks his lips. 'Is that why you pushed me so hard to take her on?' he asks at length.

Vinyáya nods silently, finishing her drink in one gulp.

Hesitantly, he brings his hand up to her face. They are in another time and place, one where the other's body, so long untouched, but never forgotten, is all there is in the world.


	60. Il y a Longtemps Que Je T

Definitely have had A La Claire Fontaine stuck in my head for the past week. It's just such a pretty song. So the title's from that, because, it's a little bit fitting. I'm pretty fond of this little guy, so I hope you enjoy it:)

* * *

Il y a Longtemps Que Je T'aime

Vinyáya enters without knocking.

Root looks up, eyebrows raised above an enormous cigar.

'Those things are going to kill you,' she tells him, closing the door behind her.

'So you've said. 'Fraid that's none of your concern, however. Can I help you with something, Wing Commander?' he keeps things formal. Someone has to maintain their distance here, after all.

'Yes, actually,' she moves forward, placing her hands on his desk and leaning towards him. He makes his cigar puffing unnecessarily audible, but manages to restrain himself from actually blowing smoke in her face.

She bites her tongue, refusing to be provoked. It's a game they have been playing for too long and she has come here to put an end to it.

'If I said that I was wrong, would you take me back?'

Root swallows. Looks at her for 67 seconds exactly. One for each of the decades that have passed since the last time they touched. Somehow, the seconds seem longer.

He puts the cigar out, in an ashtray no less.

'You'd better go lock that door,' he says at last. She laughs then, and he knows the loss of his cigars will be worth it.


	61. Picturesque

I'm pretty sure I was listening to a really pretty song when I wrote this and just wanted to write something happy. So here you go. Some of the wording's a bit awkward, but hey!

* * *

Picturesque

Angeline Fowl sits on the steps of her great house as the sun comes tumbling into the arms of the earth. She feels its warmth on her skin and closes her eyes briefly, eyelids gilded by the light. Her excuse for sitting here like this is her husband's imminent homecoming. In truth, it's to watch her son and that tiny little lover of his. Angeline knows the girl is leaving shortly; the night is near and it comes to ferry her away. But for now, however, she is here, in the garden, with her son.

She is so small even he can hold her off the ground without too much trouble. He is doing so now. Her delicate legs rest folded on his hips and he leans back to balance her weight, arms wrapped under her. The sun throws their shadow, like a challenger's glove, down onto the ground for all the world to see.

Angeline rests her chin in her palm, smiling at the sight of them. She wishes they could see themselves, and know that they are beautiful right now, standing there, just before the night comes.


	62. Candid Camera

For TaurusChick12, though I know this probably isn't really what you wanted. A follow up to For Your Eyes Alone. I did try to actually write something securely in the M rating but they always ended up mocking each other, so now it's sort of half and half. Anyway,

WARNING: OMG, MATURE CONTENT, VAGUE, BUT STILL THERE!!

* * *

Candid Camera

It had been two very long days above ground and she'd come here to rest, she remembered that much. How they had arrived at their present situation, she couldn't quite recall, but found she didn't really mind. It also wasn't, truth be told, terribly restful, but once again, she couldn't quite bring herself to care. Needless to say, the blistering midnight heat of Kigali in the summer seemed an eternity ago and Foaly and the Ops booth seemed another world entirely.

The present was simply too much to allow for the recollection of anything else.

* * *

She ran her hands along his ribs, bump, bump, bump, into the hollow of his stomach. Then up, over hip bones nearly as sharp as his mind. The moon made his pale skin into something otherworldly, too blue for a living creature's.

His breathe came quickly, his thin, stringy muscles tense. He was out of his depth here and they both knew it. It was odd, she reflected, to be with him but to be in charge. It wasn't until it was missing that she realised how expectant she had become of his direction.

Well, he certainly had no haughty remarks for her _now_.

She paused, considering this, and her dark, delicate fingers rested motionless on his skin. Half of her wanted to tease him for being so uncharacteristically acquiescent, and the other wanted to kiss him into unconsciousness. It was a tough choice.

He swallowed audibly, 'I wish I had something terribly biting to say here about you drifting off into space at a time like this, but, for some reason, nothing is coming to mind. Sorry to disappoint.'

She cocked her head, eyeing him with a smile, marvelling at his uncanny ability to read her mind. Choice made, she leaned down, kissing him below his blue eye and smiling into his skin, 'Don't be ridiculous Artemis, you never disappoint.'

'Unusually sweet, but also unusually foolish. When we take into account-'

'Shut up,' she moved lower.

His breath caught on his hasty reply, 'Alright.'


	63. Treacherous

This is unabashedly an off-shoot of 'A Family Tradition', though you don't need to have read it to understand. Though, I mean, feel free to go read it and shower me with love. ...Please?

Haha, though, to be fair, AFT borrows from these snippets to begin with, so really I'm just coming full circle. Anyway, enjoy!

(Isn't he just such a wonderful man?)

Treacherous

He had appeared to Holly, he had appeared to Mulch, he had even appeared to Artemis. But never, never to her. He wasn't sure why, only that each time he had gotten close (and those were plenty) the thought of being right next to her but still unable to touch her made his hands shake, his legs go weak.

Sometimes, when he knew she was out, he would materialise in her living room, in her kitchen. He would wander until there was nothing left of him but the tips of his fingers reaching out and his pale, hungry irises. They were enough, when she wasn't there.

But all this sneaking around made him feel criminal, made him feel cowardly, and he had never taken to cowardice. He decided to put an end to it. He would call when she was home. He could do it, he could look her in the face and keep those treacherous finger tips to himself. He'd been doing it for years while alive, after all.

She is sitting in an armchair, holding a vid-book, and staring into space. He psyches himself up, takes a deep breath, 1,2,3...

Smell always comes first, then sensation, of warmth or cold, then sight and, last of all, hearing. Taste, of course, is right out.

Root stands on the carpet in the middle of her living room, feeling like a fifty year old boy and not a deceased man of over half a millennium.

Vinyáya smiles, 'I've been waiting for you,' is all she says.

And those treacherous fingers tips ache for her skin.


	64. Nervous Tick

A father and son piece. Well, sort of. Enjoy!

Nervous Tick

_Flick, flick, flick._

The boy had been fiddling with that necklace for over an _hour_, staring out the window. If nothing else, he had to admire his son's single-mindedness.

_Flick, flick, flick._

They'd been drinking coffee after dinner, taking advantage of a mutual lull in business to share some oh-so-rare father and son time. But then the sun had set and, as the shadows grew longer, Artemis Sr. found he could no longer hold his son's attention.

_Flick, flick, flick._

Then the coin had come out. Artemis Sr. frowned slightly. Come to think of it, where on earth had Arty found such a common piece of jewellery? Never mind that he had never seemed the type for trinkets.

Though, Artemis Sr. admitted, the necklace was nothing compared to that awful, gaudy ring which had mysteriously materialised last year.

_Flick, flick, flick._

He was waiting for something, there went his eyes to the clock. But what? A visitor? At this hour?

_Flick, flick, flick._

The clock clanged midnight. His son's body tensed, nigh on quivering, and desire twanged through the room, stretching the air like an elastic band.

_Flick, flick, flick._

A window, improperly closed, blew open in the wind. Leaves scurried inside and with them came a shimmer, like moonlight on dust, or heat rising off of pavement.

Artemis snapped his fingers shut over the coin.

_Thank __**God**__,_ thought his father.


	65. The Right Idea

Er, so this came to me while reading 'Double the Fun' (which is fun!) by The Creatress. I'd never thought of the two of them ever meeting before, so it was kind of a light-bulb moment for to The Creatress if (should you ever read this) you take offense!

* * *

The Right Idea

She has always had very exacting standards when it came to lovers. And they have, all of them, fallen short of her expectations.

Except her.

First and foremost, her lover must be intelligent. Opal craves stimulating conversation, and for Frond's from someone other than Artemis Fowl. Even more importantly, Opal needs to be appreciated, and to do that one has to understand what she is doing, and to do _that_ one has to be intelligent.

She is brilliant.

Secondly, they have to be attractive. Actually, maybe that came first, Opal isn't quite sure. But Opal can't bear to look at unattractive things. Why pain herself, when she can just look in a mirror instead?

She is beautiful.

Thirdly, they have to have a really delicious sense of humour. The kind that doesn't shy away from a little irony and poetic justice.

She delights in both.

And lastly, they have to be comfortable with the thought of Opal's inevitable conquest of the world.

She is, very. At least, she is comfortable with the idea of world domination. As to by _whom_, well, that is still under debate.

But that only makes things more interesting. Opal twirls one golden curl around a finger, watching Minerva sleep. The pixie chuckles disbelievingly; maybe that pesky little Short has the right idea after all.


	66. Asked to Dinner

I needed something to make myself smile. Shameless A/H fluff. Tooth decay is nearly guaranteed.

* * *

Asked to Dinner

'Would you like to go for dinner with me?' he asks, his voice calm and plain. He doesn't try to be charming, with her he would only get nervous, and she would see through it anyway.

She looks up, head tilted like a question mark, 'Artemis... are you asking me out?'

He shrugs, 'Yes. I thought you would appreciate my inquiring beforehand.'

'As opposed to what?'

'As opposed to me tricking you into it. Like I will if you say no.'

'Wow, what a smooth operator,' she shakes her head, laughing. 'You really know how to give a girl the warm fuzzies, Arty.'

''Smooth operators' don't give you the 'warm fuzzies', they give you the desire to break things. I've witnessed the bloodshed that is Chix Verbil wooing Holly Short. Now, would you like to?'

'Well, I don't really seem to have a choice, here. It's say yes or be abducted.'

'Not at all. I'm asking if you would _like _to go to dinner. Obviously I intend to take you whether you do or not, but I am still curious.'

'Curious as to whether or not I want to waste a perfectly good evening listening to an arrogant, pasty, carcass-eating, lying, obnoxious, prat of a boy prose on about Frond only knows what?' Holly clarifies.

'Something like that,' his poker face slips fractionally.

She laughs, 'I can't think of anything I'd like to do more.'

'I'm sure we can come up with something,' he replies, trying not to look smug and failing.


	67. Hope

This one requires a bit of explanation. I'm reading 'The Virgin in the Garden' by A.S. Byatt at the moment and there was a segment about colour symbolism in Elizabethan dress. Being way too in love with symbolism I went off and started a fic centered on this colour scheme. However, it's nearly impossible to find evidence that links the emotions/traits with the colours on the internet (or that Byatt was spouting nonsense, but I hope not), so I'm going to give you the keys to this one beforehand. Bear in mind this is a super-simplified-as-the-colours-relate-to-this-fic description!

Green: hope, lemon yellow: jealousy (apparently yellow-yellow is joy...), orange: spite, red: defiance, gold: avarice. And that's all I think, except Minerva's line about prostitutes' dresses, it's also paraphrased from Byatt.

One last thing, this is based on a true event! No, I'm not trying to be heart-warming, the part with the prostitute actually did happen (the first bit, obviously not the second).

Hope

Holly ran ahead of them, laughing, hair fiery in the failing light. Though it was nearly autumn she had no coat on and her green dress flitted behind her like a kite's tail. Colour streamed off her, illuminating the drab Dublin cityscape as she flew through it.

'You know, in Elizabethan times, prostitutes wore green, so the grass stains didn't show,' Minerva commented, seemingly off-hand. She was wearing a dress as well, in lemon yellow and a pale, burnt sort of orange which went better than expected with her complexion.

Artemis nodded placidly, 'Which is ironic, because green signified hope, for the Elizabethans.' His red scarf whipped out from under his jacket in a sudden gust of wind, and at his throat there was a flash of dull gold, momentarily exposed, before he got his clothing back under control.

'And is Holly hopeful, I wonder?' Minerva asked, smirking. As they caught up with the elf, who had stopped to wait for them, she asked, eyebrow raised, voice already mocking the answer, 'Holly, ma chère, do you believe in love? I mean true love, soul mates and all that.'

Holly blew out her bangs, 'Uh... sure, why not?' Then, decisively, 'Yes. Yes, I do,' and she grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Minerva smiled archly, 'I thought you might. How sweet.'

Holly raised her own eyebrows, 'I take it you don't?'

The girl scoffed.

Holly pursed her lips, looking around, as though expecting irrevocable proof to materialise out of the pavement. Her eyes fell on an emaciated woman ahead of them, shivering in a slinky grass-green dress and a fake fur coat that ended with her ribcage. She was standing on the curb in tattered and dangerous high heels, watching and waiting.

Holly moved towards her.

'Holly, she's a – ' Artemis swallowed the noun in a show of delicate distaste.

'A what, Artemis? A whore? No, really? Pull the other one,' Holly had never dealt well with hypocrisy, especially in those she loved. On some level, she took it as a personal affront. And with Artemis, it was all too easy to be snarky. 'The Fowls can have gangsters and Mafia, pimps all of them, over for dinner any day of the week, sure, no problem. But talking to prostitutes? Don't be ridiculous. A lord doesn't speak to his serfs in the fields,' she turned away from him.

'It's not the same thing at all – _Holly_-'

But she was already walking past. The woman watched her approach, curious.

'Hi,' said Holly, smiling 'I have a question. I'm doing a survey for... uh, school. Do you believe in true love?'

The woman looked affronted, 'Of _course_ I do. Who doesn't?' Her expression was horrified and utterly in earnest.

Holly shrugged, smiling, and when she replied her voice was ever so slightly layered in Mesmer, 'I dunno. Rich people maybe. You have such pretty eyes, let me look at you.' The woman looked down, staring into Holly's eyes as she reached up, placing her hand above the woman's heart. Blue sparks slithered unnoticed into pale, city-scummy skin.

Holly dropped her hand and the woman shook herself, uncertain: suddenly her breath was coming a little easier, her throat was no longer raw, her lips were no longer chapped, and in her veins, invisible, her T cells were multiplying. Though she didn't know it, the magic would buy her a little more time, and Holly hoped it would bring her joy instead of pain. The woman smiled, without really knowing why. Holly waved a goodbye and went back to her companions.

'You shouldn't do things like that,' Artemis admonished, brow creased, 'it will get you into trouble.'

Holly looked at him and said nothing, but her eyes were suspiciously bright. He sighed and, swallowing his pride, opened his arms. She came to him without hesitation.

'She is going to die,' she whispered against the buttons of his shirt, '_You_ are going to die.'

Artemis shook his head silently. He took off his red scarf and wrapped it around her throat, its ends falling down her front, startlingly bright against the dark of her skin and the green of her dress.

Minerva looked away, suddenly understanding the green.


	68. Blindness

A third part in the 'Holly hops into bed with Artemis and forgets about her iris cam' series. Trying, once more, to flesh out Caballine in my head. Not as good as the two prequels, and more run of the mill than my last stab at Caballine, but ah well.

* * *

  
Blindness

'You'll never guess what came up on the iris cam feed today,' Foaly stretched out next to his wife.

'Oh no?' Caballine smiled, putting away her e-novel. 'But I assume you're going to tell me.'

'You betcha I am, this is too much to keep to myself,' Foaly neglected to mention that he had spent the better part of the day wondering whether or not he should actually tell Caballine. But then Holly had come in all smiles and whistles and precocious wit, and he convinced himself something would need to be said to explain her mood, if nothing else.

Caballine propped her chin in her hands and waited.

Foaly cleared his throat and, after one or two false starts, told his wife the whole sordid tale. When he had finished, to his utter confusion, she fell back onto her pillow and laughed until she was gasping.

'Why are you laughing? It's not funny! It's... it's...'

'It's so-o cute,' Caballine giggled.

'That's what Mulch said,' Foaly huffed. 'There is absolutely nothing 'cute' about Artemis Fowl.'

'There is when Holly's around: the occasional stutters, the quick half smiles, the unconscious wandering of the eyes,' Caballine clapped her hands joyfully, 'I was just waiting for this to happen. '

'Waiting? _Waiting?_ This is even more taboo than a female in the glorified boys' club that is LEPrecon. This is a_ disaster,' _Foaly spluttered.

'Why? You were thrilled that Holly broke into the LEP. And she's carried it off splendidly. Well, Hamburg and the ransom notwithstanding. She was Root's golden girl.'

'This is different. He's a human. This is – this is- '

'Love.'

'Illegal. They'll never let her get away with it.'

'They who?'

Foaly waved his arm in a vague, all-encompassing sort of way, '_They._ The Council. The general populous. They'll be enraged!'

Caballine snickered at her husband's bugging eyes as he tried facially to portray the rage of the masses. 'Well, I'm not enraged, I'm delighted,' she replied.

'You're different.'

'How? Am I suddenly not a member of the general populous?'

'No. I mean, you _know_ them.'

'I've never spoken to Artemis Fowl in my life.'

Foaly sighed, 'It's different.'

'And so was having a female LEP Officer. Some taboos are better off broken,' she reached for him, smoothing his creased forehead with her thumbs. 'Besides, the world could do with a little more happiness in it.'

'They won't see happiness, they'll see betrayal.'

'Then they are blind,' said Caballine simply.


	69. Brotherly Love

No idea where this came from. But uh, enjoy? (set in the 'Holly's gone human universe')

* * *

Brotherly Love

He loved her. He had loved her ever since he had met her, ten years ago. He loved the way she laughed, ran, smiled. He loved the way she made snarky comments and kept his brother in his place. He especially loved it when she got angry because the only person she ever got angry at was Artemis.

After they fought she would come storming out of their room, steps thundering, in need of something, some_one, _to talk to. He made sure he was the first person she came across.

When he was younger she would hold him in her lap, and they would sit together for minutes on end, him smiling and smiling and smiling. If she saw them together, his mother would laugh and ask her, do you intend to steal all my children away from me, Sidhe? Or wink and say, doesn't he remind you of Artemis? He takes after his older brother in so many ways... Then Holly would shake her head fondly, ruffle his hair, and go back upstairs to Artemis.

These days she would just sit next to him, pretending she wasn't furious, and ask him how his day had gone. He would say, oh fine, and try to find some way of touching her surreptitiously.

Myles waited around the corner from their bedroom, listening to their voices rise, trying to suppress the thrill of anticipation. Any minute now.

His mother was right, he did take after his brother. He was clever, he was cunning, and he would do whatever it took to have Holly Short for his own.


	70. Defeated

Originally written as a Holly POV on the Myles fic, this sort of... tangented.

* * *

Defeated

She runs Artemis' hair through her fingers, his head pillowed on her stomach. He is reading Pushkin and considering trying his hand at a translation. After all, he has just finished forging a very successful series of Klimts and needs something to occupy himself.

Holly finds herself curiously proud of these comparatively inconsequential triumphs of his. His parents, especially his father, can never quite praise them enough for her liking. Aren't you proud of him? She demands, isn't he brilliant?

Of course, of course, they reply.

But nothing they say will ever be sufficient, and she knows it. Not for the years when they were gone, not for all the times he has longed for their praise and heard only the echoes of his own silence in the vast halls of his home, not for all the things he has done that they will never know about. In the past months, watching them coo and fawn over the twins, she has been shocked to discover that she is furious with them. They never loved _him_ like that, they abandoned him. Their only child.

Sometimes she understands exactly how he came to be the cruel, heartless child that she first met.

But now! He keeps pandering to their whims, still craving their love and approval. Her hands tighten painfully in his hair.

'Ow, Holly, what- are you alright? You look furious,' Artemis raises his head.

'Artemis, I won't _ever _just abandon you,' she whispers, fierce, 'I'm not like them.'

He licks his lips, contemplative, knowing exactly who she means. 'I know,' he says at last, 'I know you're not. Perhaps I should kidnap my father for ransom?' he laughs.

Her head falls back onto the pillow, and her eyes stare at the ceiling, defeated. Why wasn't her love enough?


	71. Full of Grace

Inspired (yes, I know I'm a little pathetic) by a Tracy Chapman song. I think it's called 'I am yours, if you are mine', but I'm not sure. However, if you know it, I'm sure you can see where I borrowed. Sorry for the excessive alliteration. The beginning of human-Holly. No idea why they're in the basement.

* * *

Full of Grace

The room is still ugly. Still nothing but an off-white cement cube with a metal cot along the wall (one leg forever embedded in the earth) like a post-modern work of art. Still exactly as it had been when last quitted, all those years before. The air has become gummy; the echoes of their past selves have congealed, soup-like, over time, preserving the room like a scientific specimen in gelatinous formaldehyde. Like an exhibit in some masochistic personal museum.

By contrast, two occupants of the room are nearly unrecognisable. Unexpectedly, both are taller, and their lengthier new exteriors have hardened to hide softened innards. But the boundary lines of their bodies, once clearly marked by skin and vigilantly patrolled by authoritative clothing, have blurred. Body parts have begun switching allegiances. Unnoticed, those soft interiors are bleeding into each other from opposite sides of the room.

This time there is no get out of jail free card squirreled away in a boot. But there are also no handcuffs, no tape, no ropes. This time there is no jail to escape from, only a choice to make.

She stands before him, palms up, empty, like a statue of the Virgin Mary.

'I am yours,' she says, 'if you are mine.'


	72. Everything

Originally part of Full of Grace, but then cut, was considered for Tradition, but then rejected, but is just so darn cute I thought I'd stick it up as is. More shameless A/H.

* * *

Everything

'I have nothing,' she says.

'I don't need anything,' he replies, 'I was born with nearly everything, and what I wasn't, I have since taken.'

Her laugh is humourless. 'Yeah, you took me, alright. The question is: do you still want me?'

'Always.'


	73. Giving In

Got tired of writing A/H. So this isn't. Well, not physically at least. The other man is, in my mind, Trouble, but it could be anyone.

* * *

Giving In

Beside her, his dark limbs curled inwards, cold. She lay down and his arm came around her, pulling her close. She tried not to resent the possessiveness of the gesture. Her repulsion was for herself, and herself alone. Though she knew it would be easier to hate him, she had absolutely no right or reason. It wasn't it his fault she was a coward and didn't love him, she told herself sternly. She had made her bed and would have to lie it, and the least she could do was treat him well.

Holy sighed, looking up at the ceiling. After all she had fought for, after all the rules she had broken and the boundaries she had crossed, at the very end, when it had mattered the most, she had shied away. Why? She asked, for the nth time.

It would have been too much, she answered.

Too much compared to...?

She let the question hang.

She closed her eyes and pretended that the arm around her was thin and white, that its hand and fingers were long and delicate. That the eyes that watched her were her own, not a matching set of brown. That she had had the courage to choose the man she loved and not simply settle for the one that loved her.


	74. Homeward Bound

One of my drabbles that's really more of a one shot, but hey! Set directly after TTP. Because I was dissatisfied! Come _on, _how are they supposed to go separate ways after all of this? I mean, honestly. And after the last drabble I needed to cheer myself up. I may get bored of writing A/H, but not for very long. Title's a Simon and Garfunkel song. SHAMELESS fluff. I may even go so far as to say vaguely OOC, but I hope not.

* * *

Homeward Bound

'I want to talk to you,' he said. The reception was bad, he was flying above Greenland when he called.

'I'm busy,' she replied. Doing stakeout duty in a champod in the middle of nowhere. But her wounds were fresh and she wanted time to let them scab over, so that he couldn't worm his way back into her blood.

'You're doing all night surveillance duty outside an abandoned carnival sight.'

Holly dropped her head onto the pod's dashboard with a groan. 'How do you _know_ that?'

'Do you honestly want me to tell you?'

His smug little smile came through loud and clear, despite all the kilometres in between them. 'You've been rifling through my scheduling files?' she guessed sarcastically.

'Actually, yes.'

She blinked three times in quick succession.

'Is there a problem?' Dinar Moss, her podmate, noticed her baffled expression and took one headphone out of a pointed ear, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head, rolling her eyes expressively. He shrugged and returned to his tunnel-screamo.

'What do you want?' she turned back to her communicator.

'No, no, we've had that bit already. To talk to you, remember? Honestly, Captain, keep up.'

'Artemis, I'm warning you, any of your lip and I am outta here.'

'Metaphorically speaking of course.'

'_Artemis.'_

'Sorry,' his breath rattled through the speaker. She heard a rough crackle as he swallowed.

'Well?' she asked. 'Talk.'

'Come home.' His voice was tentative but she knew him well enough to know there was nothing tentative about his desires. His requests were only polite phrased orders.

'I am home,' she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, as though he could see her.

'No you're not. I am your home.'

Taken aback by his unusual bluntness, and scared of its truth, she replied with more spite than was necessary. 'You are the boy who lied to me, who used me, and who will have no qualms about doing it again.'

'Allow me to tangent for one moment and say that that isn't quite factual. I did and I would have qualms.' Testy now, as he always was with misinformation.

'Oh well, in _that _case then!' she snorted. 'Too bad they're not enough to keep you from doing whatever you d'arvitting well please.'

His sigh was like a tsunami through the tiny speaker. 'Captain this is all entirely irrelevant and we both know it. My immorality has never been enough to keep you from caring for me, so let's put it aside for a moment. The truth of the matter is that I am the only person who will ever do for you, despite my admittedly numerous character flaws,' he paused, and she could picture him straightening his tie, preparing himself for the clincher. She steeled herself for whatever was coming. 'Once even, I _was_ you. Do you remember, Holly?'

She slumped in her chair as though he had struck her. From some things, there was simply no protection.

'Yes,' she whispered.

'Then come home, Holly.' Pressing his advantage, his voice became just a little plaintive. She knew it was only partially for show.

'I told you, your elf kissing days are over. I meant it.'

'Of course.'

'I _meant _it,' she gritted out, knowing just how overly defensive she sounded.

'Do you mean everything you say?'

'Yes. Well, nearly everything.' Eyes narrowing in suspicion.

'Then may I remind you that you can't do without me, Holly Short, and you know it.'

She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. She hated it when he was right and knew it. There was absolutely no reasoning with him.

'If it's any consolation,' he continued placidly, 'once, you were also me. And, once, I thought you were dead and came to a similar realisation. Perhaps if the situation had been less chaotic I would have had time to tell you that I can't do without you either. But, then again, perhaps not. I am not as brave as you are, after all.'

'And just what are you getting at here?' she became mocking, a last ditch effort to distance herself. 'Am I your home, Artemis Fowl?'

'Yes,' he admitted, softly, 'and I am homesick.'

'Oh.' Her voice was very small. She caught sight of her reflection in the windshield and saw that she was smiling.


	75. Once Around the Block

Inspired by a conversation about Colfer's habit of letting his characters fall to the wayside. And because I wanted to see if I could make the pairing work. I couldn't. Granted, I may not have tried very hard.

* * *

Once Around the Block

Mulch leaned an elbow on his partner's desk. 'He-ey there, pretty lady,' he leered, 'is there a shuttleport nearby or is that my heart taking off?'

Holly looked up, an expression of disbelief on her face. '_Excuse_ me?' she asked.

Mulch shrugged, 'Well, it's just the two us now ain't it? Root's caputski, Foaly's locked away in the Ops Booth, Vinyáya's just a side note and Arty's around, but Frond knows when we'll see him and that giant of his again. We're the only ones left. Hero and heroine of this story, as it were. And they always end up getting together. So, I thought I should practice, see what it would be like coming on to you.'

'And how was it?' Holly crossed her arms and leaned back, balancing her chair on two legs.

'Unsatisfying. I know Arty thinks you're prettiest thing since we discovered gold, but I've just never seen it myself. You're just not...' he stroked his beard thoughtfully, 'hairy enough. No offense. Truth be told, I'm sorry Holly, but I just don't think this relationship's got much mileage in it.'

'Oh no,' Holly's chair returned to earth with a thump, as she leaned forward, holding her hands in front of her placatingly, 'don't worry about it. I'm sure I'll get over the heartbreak eventually.'

'Phewf. I was worried. I know just how irresistible I am,' the dwarf hooked a thumb under his suspenders.

Holly raised an eyebrow. 'In the words of Juliet Mulch: in your _dreams._'

He clapped his hands, guffawing, delighted with the memory.

'There's another one we've lost,' he smiled sadly, when his laughter died down. He reached up, ruffling Holly's hair affectionately, 'We may not be made for each other, but you'd better not up leave me too, you hear me girly?'

'Loud and clear Mulch,' Holly smiled.


	76. The Lucky Ones

An off shoot from 'The Month of May'. I think it's self-explanatory enough that you don't need to read the fic to understand, though obviously it'll make more sense. Have I ever mentioned that I love Butler?

* * *

The Lucky Ones

Artemis dips his biscotti gently into his coffee, swirling the liquid about.

'You're unusually quiet this evening,' Butler remarks. 'What are you planning, Artemis.' It isn't a question; Butler has known the boy too long.

The boy pushes his coffee away, 'Nothing, actually. I'm thinking about two friends of ours and how lucky they are to have each other, but, at the same time, how unfair life is going to be to them. And how, for once, I find myself utterly useless. I cannot alleviate their eventual pain. And, even more odd, the fact that I truly do wish to help them. How we change,' he sighs.

'Just for the sake of clarity, who exactly are we talking about here?' Butler asks.

'Do you know, old friend, where your sister is living right now?' Artemis replies.

'Ye-es...' Butler isn't seeing the connection, 'in Mexico City.'

'Now, can you guess where LEP Captain Holly Short has chosen to spend her vacation time?'

Butler blinks, 'But Juliet doesn't remember! And I didn't realise they were so close,' he adds as an afterthought.

'I'm not completely useless, Butler, I can at least do that for them.' Artemis smiles with his incisors, 'And they're much closer now, I believe.'

'I'm sure the Council will just love that one.'

'I'm sure the Council will probably never know.' Artemis fiddles with the end of his biscotti, something else clearly weighing on his mind.

'What aren't you telling me, Artemis.'

The boy looks up, 'It's nothing, really. Only that...' he looks away, 'that I don't believe I could ever do something of the sort . Love someone like that, I mean, knowing that my lover will die and I will spend the next two thousand years alone. '

'Or live the rest of your life knowing you are going to break your lover's heart,' adds Butler. 'Not so pleasant.'

'No,' Artemis shakes his head. 'And yet, they are lucky, aren't they? To have each other.'

Butler nods, 'Yes, they are.'

'Isn't that odd,' Artemis eats the last of his cookie.


	77. A Thousand and One Nights

Another trilogy. Yeah, it's cheesy, but that's never stopped me before.

* * *

A Thousand and One Nights

'This one,' Holly chose a book at random. 'There're three of them, so it'll take a while.'

'No, really? Why don't I just read you A Thousand and One Nights? It would be faster,' Artemis asked sarcastically.

'And then I would be gone even faster,' Holly shrugged, apparently fine with leaving anytime.

Artemis takes the book. 'Concerning Hobbits,' he begins.


	78. White Lies

Part two. Well, really part one, if we're going chronologically.

* * *

White Lies

Neither is sure where the idea came from. Maybe it had been Holly, wanting to give her 'I'm over viewing collected data' lie at least some basis in truth. Maybe it had been Artemis, subconsciously seeking childhood comforts with the only person who wouldn't find it strange.

Maybe it really is just as Holly says, that she simply wants to explore Mudman culture a little. You know, know thine enemy. Then again, even she didn't believe herself when she said that.

For whatever reason, be it amorous, psychological, or educational, Artemis Fowl II has taken to reading bedtime stories to Holly Short.


	79. Here at the End of All Things

I think you all knew where this was going.

On a side note, let me says that if Colfer is going to start alluding to LotR, why can't the rest of us? Yes, I may be a little defensive:P Title's Tolkein's.

* * *

Here at the End of All Things

They've read The Fellowship, The Two Towers, The Return of the King. Grasping at straws, they start in on the appendices.

Artemis sits on his bedspread, back leaning against the wall. Over the top of the book he watches her as she perches on the opposite side of the bed, legs dangling over the edge, occasionally swinging back and forth. The words stutter and fade, unnoticed, in his mouth.

She turns to look at him, curious at his sudden silence. Feeling a blush rise up his throat, he clears his throat and continues the story of Arwen and Aragorn.

He doesn't get very far.

'Stop,' Holly interrupts. 'Don't finish this one, let's call it a night, okay?'

'We're in the middle of the chapter!'

'I don't want to hear anymore,' Holly replies stubbornly.

'Don't be ridiculous, you chose the book, and I am not going to stop now simply because you've gotten bored.'

'I haven't gotten bored,' she glares at him over her shoulder, 'I just... I already know how this story ends.'

'Well, we're finishing it anyway,' he replies, more out of a desire to win the argument then to continue reading.

Holly puts her hands over her ears. 'Go ahead,' she mutters.

'Stop being childish,' he snaps hypocritically, before finishing the chapter.

Closing the book, he wishes he had, for once, listened to Holly.

Holly still has her hands over her ears, but they haven't done much good. He crawls forward to sit beside her, awkwardly watching her cry.

'It's only a story,' he says lamely.

'Tell me that in another eighty years,' she whispers.

Artemis hangs his head.


	80. Calling Out

Wanted something cuddly, so here you go.

* * *

Calling Out

His bedroom was dark, the lamps off, the heavy curtains drawn against the coming dawn. The hall light flung his shadow across the hardwood floor as he stood uncertain in the doorway. Making up his mind, Artemis stepped inside, silently closing the door behind him.

He couldn't see a thing. Swallowing hard, he could feel his pulse as it fluttered spastically against the delicate skin of his throat.

'Holly?' he asked the darkness, body taut with apprehension.

There was a groan from the direction of the bed. 'Artemis, for Frond's sake, I was _this close _to falling asleep.'

His head fell back against the door. A smile, invisible, spread across his face, and he sighed, his pulse slowing, settling back into its normal rhythm. She was still there. As she had been for years.

And yet, every night, this sudden, irrational fear as he stood in the doorway, peering into the black... For, what if she was to leave him?

Slowly, hands outstretched, he followed her voice through the dark.


	81. Barrel Full of Monkeys

This was supposed to be more Trouble-centric, but ah well. Directly after TTP, because who wouldn't want their vacation time after that one?

* * *

Barrel Full of Monkeys

'But…' Holly's face crumples, 'just this once, Trouble? Please? I haven't had a vacation since... since that time Artemis stole Lady Foo Frou what's her name's d'Arvitting tiara. And even then I only got half of what I was supposed to.'

Commander Kelp shrugs, outwardly unsympathetic. 'Well then, tell your pet monkey to stop kicking up dust. And no, you can't, not with two Koboi's in the world, one of whom has gone AWOL.'

'Which monkey?' Holly replies sarcastically, 'Artemis orJayjay?'

Trouble looks nonplussed. 'Did you even hear the last thing I said, Captain?'

'Of course I did,' Holly crosses her arms. 'Are you trying to pull rank on me, Kelp?'

'Yes,' Trouble answers, unrepentant. 'And I'll do it publicly if you don't quit whining and get to work.'

Holly sighs. Her very atoms are exhausted, her head is hopelessly confused and her heart is bleeding internally, with nothing to staunch the flow. She wants only to curl up in a ball under a very heavy duvet and have a good cry. And then maybe kick the shit out of something. Knowing she's being a brat but past caring, she shrugs, 'Right. Of course. Whatever you want. _Sir._'

'Holly-' her name comes out in a sigh as he watches her turn to go.

'Yes, sir?' Face expressionless.

Trouble fights for composure. He is frustrated, not knowing how to comfort her, knowing he's only making things worse. But he doesn't want her to take off for a month and sit around moping because she can't have what she needs. He's hoping maybe work will take her mind off things. Off that bloody monkey (boy, not lemur). He shakes his head to clear it. 'You don't even like vacations,' he tells her.

'Sure I do, at least as much as you like throwing your weight around,' she deadpans, closing the door behind her.

He tries not to take it personally. Failing that, he tries at least not to break anything as he punches his office walls.


	82. Misunderstood

And now for something completely different.

* * *

Misunderstood

The giant creature sighed. Why did they always insist on coming 'round right as he was planning to shed? It wasn't like he _wanted_ to them be crushed to pieces. That was entirely their own prerogative. And honestly, you'd think they'd forget, after so many years. But oh no, here they were again. He sighed again, sending tidal waves rolling towards the coast. Every bleeding time. Apparently, it never occurred to them that he may want a little _privacy_.

Even putting aside all of that, the fact that when everything was said and done and all neighbouring construction was reduced to rubble, they had the terimety to complain about it! As though _he_ was the one with freedom of movement, here. The kraken shook its massive head, releasing a force 4 earthquake. He was so misunderstood.


	83. A Knight, His King and His Queen

Butler/Holly/Artemis. Never done it before but the Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot parallel was too good to pass up, even though it got a bit buried in all the chess. Heaps of thanks to ilex-ferox, beta extraordinaire.

* * *

A Knight, His King and His Queen

He was sworn to him; out of duty, out of honour, out of love. There had never been any doubt in either of their minds that they would be together until one or, as was likely, both died. After all, one lived for the other and one had never lived without the other.

Then she had arrived on the scene. It was not the usual entrance for a leading lady. She had been neither poised, nor graceful nor witty. And neither of them had been terribly chivalrous.

They had taken her captive, an unwitting spoil of war. But, as the years went by, exactly who had captured who became more and more difficult to determine. They jumped from square to square but their movements did not follow the rules, and what was once black and what was once white became only shades of grey.

She loved him, that much was obvious. Which him, you ask? Now that was more difficult. The answer was both. And they both, in turn, knelt at her feet, heads bowed before their virgin queen, their smiling temptress. For she was theirs.

From square to square, their queen had moved with terrifying efficacy, taking the knight before turning on his king. Her actions were so fluid, however, and the knight and king so inseparable, that, in reality, they fell simultaneously. Chess does not allow for such instantaneous victories, but nor does it show the ready embrace of the captive king, the ecstasy of the fallen knight, or the bonds keeping the queen tied to their sides.

But the knight was also his king's champion and none could love him as he did. All's fair in love and war, but when you love your enemies as much as your lovers lines blur and the face you were spitting in a moment ago you are kissing the next.

Though they didn't know the half of it, the crowds in the stands still screamed and stamped their feet. They watched the queen and they watched the king, down on the dusty tournament field, and they waved their frayed pennants shouting: disgusting! Taboo! Shame, shame, shame!

And therein lay the heart of the problem. Shame lay in drifts in the streets, clogging traffic. It rose, grey and heavy, into the sky, blotting out the sun.

If only they knew there was a third party involved. The crowd knew of him of course, he was hard to miss, but never in a million years would they guess... that was a whole other level of taboo. A whole other layer of shame.

And yet, when they were alone, just the three of them, it seemed only natural. They would die for one another so why wouldn't they live for one another? They didn't need anyone else, having between them beauty, brawn, and brains. A closed circuit, they began where each other ended and fed from one into the other, an endless Möbius strip. How many others could say the same of their lovers?

It wouldn't last, their fragile triangle. They walked a fine line, and accepted the consequences, safe in the knowledge that they would fall together. For, even if they didn't die for each other, they would die with each other.

Meanwhile, they would live.


	84. All That's Needed

I may be borrowing from actual circumstance here. Because, honestly, is it just me, or is two weeks a ridiculously long time?

* * *

All That's Needed

Holly watched the wall opposite her. All of a sudden, for no apparent reason, she smiled, her whole face lighting up.

Foaly snorted quietly to himself, 'Do you see what I'm dealing with here?'

Mulch only laughed, smirking around his carrot, 'Your boy that good is he, Holly?'

'Mm,' replied Holly, still smiling.

'It's going to be at least two weeks before you see him again,' Foaly told her, sullenly.

'Mm,' replied Holly, still worlds away in a place where the universe consisted of delicate pianists' fingers and the faint outline of pale skin in the dark.

'Aren't you sad?' Mulch prodded.

Shrugging, Holly turned to them at last. 'He wants me,' she said simply. And that was all she needed to know.


	85. Mirage

Pre first book, Angeline on the road to madness. Still trying to break out of the constant A/H. The Artemis mentioned is Sr. not Jr.

* * *

Mirage

Angeline lay on her back in the king-sized four poster bed that dominated the master bedroom of Fowl Manor. Velvet and silk stretched in all directions like the Sahara as her delicate body lay gasping for water in the middle of it with no relief for miles.

There was no one in this bed but herself; herself, and a thousand memories of Artemis. He took up all the space until she could not longer move, until she was sure she would drown in him, even here in this endless desert. And yet when she reached for him she found only empty air. He was the mirage that wavered on the horizon, promising water, promising life.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and Angeline froze, the muscles in her stomach clenching, her eyes widening. The steps passed her door without pausing. They hadn't even been his anyway. They never were. But she couldn't help herself: every sound, every whisper, every scratch in the house made her pause, whole body quivering, thinking: this time, _this time_...

He is not here, she told herself firmly. He is in Russia. We just don't know where. He's safe, he's fine, he'll come back. Get a hold of yourself.

A door closed on the floor below and her lips quivered with want.

I am going mad, she thought.


	86. Samson and Delilah

Bet this isn't about who you think it's about! Extra points if you know who her employer is. Though, I'm not sure of the canonical possibility of that.

* * *

Samson and Delilah

He lay beside her, sleeping peacefully, for once in his life totally unsuspecting. In sleep his features softened, mouth hanging slightly open. Looking past him, she eyed the computer across the room. She knew what it held and she knew how to get at it. Like every man in love, wittingly or unwittingly, he had shown her his weakness.

She rose, crossing to the giant screen. It would be easy. He had given her the means to undo him. It was what she had been sent to do.

Her employer had made jokes about wires, like in the old days. _Snip, snip_, she'd cackled gleefully. _Cut the wires, cut his life line, cut his umbilical cor. Then we'll see who wins the war. _Seeing that her employee's guilt was unassuaged, she had rolled her eyes. _It'll be as easy as cutting his hair. Snip snip! _And she'd cackled again, giggling helplessly at her own wit, delicate face screwed up with mirth.

Shaking her head at the memory, she ran a hand over the keyboard. He stirred in his sleep, reaching for her.

_It'll be as easy as cutting his hair. _

Caballine turned away from the screen and went back to bed. She kissed his forehead and watched the frown smooth from his face. Running a hand through Foaly's thin fringe, she thought, i_f I cut that, there'd be nothing left_.


	87. An Evolution

An Artemis Jr. POV that began life as a Darwin inspired piece after a trip to a natural history museum (and all the hype for his birthday). I think it's morphed a bit into a Darwin/Valentine's day gripe, as awkward a combination as that is. I'm sure Charlie is rolling in his grave. Ah well. Happy belated Birthday!

* * *

An Evolution

I cannot explain this. I am, quite simply, baffled. Where does it come from? this... this _compassion_. This empathy. There is absolutely no good reason for it.

I have studied my symptoms, analysed, dissected, categorised, bottled and labelled, all to no avail. I have made impossibly intricate life drawings in the finest India ink, detailing the inner workings of my (clearly disturbed) psyche, describing the supple line of her body as the unwitting axis of an entire universe, charting that subtle tilt of her head which sends worlds spinning. All these reveal nothing. I can make neither head nor tail of the situation.

A collection of atoms, of electrical signals and chemical reactions, of water and blood and bone, standing a mere one metre high, should, under no circumstances, cause me to take such a drastic leave of my senses. Cause me to go against my nature, against the nature of nature itself, and take the welfare of others in account, at times ahead of my own. It is survival of the fittest, not survival of the kindest. And there is no question that, before I met her, I was, at least cerebrally, the fittest. Now I have gone soft. Friends, family, rescue, charitable donations. Guilt. Shame. Where do these words, these abstract, immaterial notions come from?

The polished facets of my mind, the honed, refined, _perfected, _arsenal of cunning and brilliance that I have, over the years, so carefully crafted for myself is becoming obsolete. In this new arena I am helpless. Like Butler fighting an incorporeal enemy, my precision, my years of practice, are found to be worthless. They slide through this latest adversary and come out the other side dulled and undesirable. I cannot cut this love down to size, I cannot control it, put it in its place, outwit it, lock it away. I can only hold it at arms' length and attempt to minimize the ever increasing damage.

There, I have said it. Love. The word is entirely inadequate. In no way do those four letters encompass the fear, the obsession, the nausea, the uncertainty, the complete and irretrievable loss of common sense and self-preservation. The dissolution of one's self into another. The ecstasy of all the above.

Never mind time travel, splitting the atom, the second coming, life after death, here is the real mystery, the real miracle. To protect ourselves we have ever so carefully submerged it in a banality akin to formaldehyde, dressed it in cheap paperbacks and plotless films, painted it with Hallmark cards and chocolate wrappers, until we can forget what it is we are actually looking at. And incredible feat really, this masterful disguise, this cage we have made it, hiding it in plain sight, in the mockable, the mawkish. If only I, myself, could do the same. But it is much more difficult after having seen it for what it is. Once free of its cage, a wild thing is not so easily recaptured.

I look back over what I have written here and am, if possible, even more distressed. Tangents and meanderings. Entirely maudlin and sentimental, very nearly absurd. I will stop now, to save myself further humiliation, if at all possible. In my own defence however, before I leave let me say this: even Darwin, one of our most brilliant, if often mistaken, men could not explain this phenomenon.


	88. Anything But Nothing

Mostly a reworking of an original piece that wasn't going anywhere. It's a bit jumbled but I haven't the heart to fiddle with it too much.

* * *

Anything But Nothing

Juliet picked up her coffee, swirling it idly in its handcrafted cup. She took a sip, sighed, and looked out the window. Artemis waited, silent. She 'd come back to the Manor last night; from eyes as red as betrayal mascara had marked the grimy trail of heartbreak along the white canvas of her face. He knew she wanted to speak, and he knew she'd get there faster without help.

'Have you ever known that you were letting something good go?' She held the cup tight in her hands, desperately. 'Just stood there, watching someone's back move away from you down the side walk, down the hall, whatever, and you just let them go? Even though you knew that they were good, that they were... like, maybe not The One, but as damn near close as you were ever going to get? And that that didn't really matter, you had to let them go anyway? Because they didn't want you, or they had to go, or just something happened. And it's not like some Hollywood film where they say they have to go and then come running back through the airport at the last minute. They actually really had to go and so they up and goddamn went. And you just smiled and nodded and stood there, wondering how the hell you were going to make it home without them, because every step felt like a warm up for the end of the world.

But then you hear a song or the sun shines and it's stupid and you're shattered, I mean really shattered, like your rib cage could keep a hamster from escaping and your internal organs are trailing behind you and your limbs are falling off at the joints. That kind of shattered. But you hear that song or feel the sun and you know it'll be alright, even though they could have been It and it didn't work out so that's that, but there's still... hope.'

She set the cup down on the table, exactly in the coffee ring it had left behind, 'Or maybe we only think it'll be alright because otherwise whatever's keeping all those shattered pieces together would just heave a sigh and fall to dust. And then you'd be nothing but bones and water and a heart endlessly pumping blood out onto the pavement. I mean, what if that feeling doesn't mean anything at all? What if it's just absolutely nothing? God, I effing hope it's not just nothing.'

'It isn't,' Artemis replied.

'How the hell would you know?'

_Good question_, Artemis conceded. He thought of an offer of friendship when less was deserved and much more was needed. Of a visor sliding shut, reflecting his pale face off of her dark one, his mismatched eyes superimposed on themselves. He thought of her melting away into the sky and of the sun smoothing the grass where she had just stood. _Because if it's nothing then I am in just as much trouble as you are. _


	89. Desire Is Not a Synonym for Need

No! I haven't forgotten about these guys. To celebrate end of exams (more or less), here's a drabble. I was looking up synonyms for 'desire' and Word came up with 'need', which I disagreed with. It's up to you to figure out who's talking in each section. Enjoy:)

* * *

Desire Is Not a Synonym for Need

I don't need to steal. I just really like it, you know? I can quit anytime, I'm telling you. Yeah, I might have nicked Doodah's driving licence yesterday, but that was just a practical joke. Like Holly's bread knife the other day at dinner, or that gizmo I got out of the Ops Booth last Friday. And, anyway, it's not like I won't give them back. I'm just borrowing - that's not really stealing. Look, there's a difference between desire and need. I just _like _stealing, okay?

Your belt buckle's missing? Oh, how strange. No, I haven't seen it. It just vanished you say? Weird...

* * *

When my husband left, I wanted him back so terribly that I felt ill to the point of unconsciousness. The world seemed to be perpetually tilting on its axis, never staying still and level. It was a globe and someone kept spinning it.

Perhaps I was out of practise wanting things. I am, after all, a lucky woman; there have been precious few things in my life which I desired but did not receive. Or, perhaps, sometimes there is no difference between desire and need. You begin with desire and, before you realise, desire has spilled over into need, so strong is the force of it. And to need something like I needed my husband... It was no longer an emotional craving but a physical deprivation. My bones could no longer support me; my body and mind were falling to piece from the lack of him. He was basic sustenance which I needed to live. I was drowning in my desire and need kept trying to pull me under.

* * *

I wanted to do many things when I was young. But I didn't.

On the other hand, I need to do very little. I need to breathe, I need to eat. Occasionally, I need to sleep. In order to my job, I need to keep fit. Basically, that sums it up.

When I was young I wanted to marry, perhaps have children. I felt like I would have made a good father.

However, I need to keep him safe.

Eventually, desire and need became the same thing.

* * *

As a child, I never made the distinction between what I desired and what I needed. After all, I had never needed anything, only desired a great deal.

This seemed like an excellent state of affairs to me at the time. To be honest, I still believe that it was a golden age for me; even if I can admit, now, that it was a golden age built on loneliness, spite and cruelty. One can dream of times past without wishing to return to them, however.

But, of course, things were too good to last. In the greatest of all the many ironies of my short existence, I, myself, introduced into my life the very thing – the very person – who would teach me, with painful clarity, the resounding difference between desire and need.

Oh, certainly, desire plays a large, if unacknowledged, part in our relationship. But, whether by time or by personal exertion, desires can be overcome. Need, however - the incapacity to do without - keeps us, despite the countless atrocities we inflict upon each other –

Well, I say "we" and "each other". To be fair it is mostly "I" and "her". Mostly.

– where was I? Oh yes. It's our incapacity to do without that forces us to return, time and again, to each other. Saving the world is simply a useful alibi. If it hadn't been so continuously provided for us, I would have had to create it.

No, unfortunately, desire is not a synonym for need.

* * *

His problem is that he confuses desire with need. Actually, he's got a lot more problems than that, but for the sake of argument. And, really, even desire is a bit strong. He wants something. In this case, me. But he doesn't need it. Me, that is. He doesn't need me.

Need is for things like eating, sleeping, breathing. Having a working gun when you've got a hundred angry demons chasing you. When you need something you use the indicative, when you want something you use the subjunctive. Trust me, I speak over five hundred languages. There's a difference.

I mean, I guess you could argue that, in a way, he does need me. To carry out his schemes, tp play whatever insane role he's cooked up for me, someone who's too besotted to care (I say care because she certainly notices) when she's being used. Without me, half his plans would be useless. But that's not the same thing, is it?

Okay, I'll admit that maybe "want" doesn't quite cover his emotions. He does tend to be a bit extreme. Desire, then. Fine. Whatever. The point is it's not _need_, is it?

And, let's face it, I certainly don't want him. Who would want a pasty faced criminal who lies as easily as breathing?

Do I need him, you're asking?

.....

.....

Like I said, desire and need aren't the same things.

* * *

I guess I'm pretty lucky, really. She knew what she was getting into when she married me and still said yes. I mean, just the fact that I managed to find someone in the same species is lucky, but that doesn't take the same amount of guts on her part.

For a while I tried to delude myself into thinking that I didn't need my work, that she would be the most important thing in the world to me. She knew better.

It's not like I don't love her. I do. I adore her. I wanted her to marry me more than anything I've ever wanted. But my work – I need to do what I do. I can't live without it.

Though, in a way, I think... well, let's put it this way: I need my work. I need to invent, to study. I don't have a choice. With her, I _wanted _her. I chose her. Not because I had to, but simply because I loved her. And I think that that might be worth more.


	90. Afterward

WARNING: allusions to rape and murder. So.

Anyway, this one's well.... just strange. I blame it entirely on my having read too much Amélie Nothomb in the past few weeks.

* * *

Afterward

'No,' Holly said.

'Why not?'

'I don't want to. Stop. Stop it.'

'Come on, Holly; stop being such a frigid little tease.'

'I said _stop_, Orion.' She bit him.

Orion laughed, undoing her belt. 'Finally, a reaction. You know, that whole 'virgin huntress' thing is such a turn on, but, let's face it: the virginal bit gets old quickly.'

'Go to hell.'

He stayed right where he was.

* * *

Trouble found her the next morning, throwing up in the Academy's only female washroom.

'You never came back to the dorms last night,' he said.

'I got distracted,' she replied, splashing water on her face.

'Are you alright?' He put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She flinched away from him. 'Yeah, that time of the month, you know.'

'Oh.'

* * *

'And you never told anyone?' Artemis asked, disbelieving.

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Artemis, I was fighting tooth and nail to stay in the Academy as it was. That kind of attention is the last thing I needed.'

'Why tell me?'

'I want your help.'

'Ah.' He smiled.

Artemis picked the scorpion off the floor with a pair of tongs. Holly held the glass jar ready, screwing the top back on as soon as Artemis dropped the poisonous animal inside it.

They stand side by side, studying the body. 'I can't believe he's still living in this same stinking flat,' Holly said.

'Was living,' Artemis corrected.

'Was,' she smiled at him.

'Is this where...?'

'Yes, on his living room floor. He brought me back here under the pretext of a showing me a new hover board model.'

Artemis turned on the light in the living room, eyeing the thick rug on the floor.

'Same d'Arvitting rug, too,' Holly spoke from beside him.

She was standing very close. He glanced down at her.

'I've never killed anyone before,' she said, her eyes hooded. 'Thank you, for that.'

'I've never made love before,' Artemis replied.

Holly looked him in the eye. 'I suppose that's a fair price for a murder. Fitting, too.'

* * *

Afterward he said, 'Thank you, for that.'


	91. Going In Circles

After finishing with bizarre French authors, I moved onto The Age of Innocence and An Equal Music. All the extra-marital affairs are getting to me. But O Vikram Seth, I love you.

* * *

Going in Circles

She rolls off of him. 'You're _married?_' Her expression is horrified.

He shrugs. 'Yes, for several years now.'

'But... but how? How did I not know? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't _Foaly_ tell me?'

'It's been years since Foaly's looked into me. And why would I have told you? It doesn't concern you at all, so what would have been the point? It's like commenting on the weather when we both know that it's raining.'

'But we _didn't _both know that you were married. And what do you mean it doesn't concern me?' She stands, putting space between them. 'I've been sleeping with a married man! I can't do something like that to your wife.'

Artemis looks at her blandly. 'Do what to my wife, exactly? How are you affecting her in the least? For you, what difference does it make if I'm a monk or polygamist?'

'How am I _affecting _– Artemis, I'm - we're – I'm sleeping with the man she loves.'

He scoffs, she frowns.

'Don't you love her?'

'No.'

Holly stares at him. 'You married someone you didn't love?'

'Don't be naive, Holly, for goodness' sake.'

'No, I mean, that just doesn't seem like your style. Why would you bother marrying at all then?'

'It's a very long story, mostly to do with her parents and my mother. But, like I said, it doesn't matter.'

'How does it not matter? You're _married_. Not only are we breaking_ my_ laws, but now we're breaking yours as well.'

'Better to be hung for a sheep then for a lamb.'

'How can you say it doesn't matter?'

He shrugs again. 'Because it doesn't. As far as I'm concerned, my wife is married to someone else's husband. You came first, after all.'

'I –' Holly pauses. 'Artemis, that doesn't count. You were a child, it was years ago. Just being in love... it isn't binding – or recognizable in a court of law.'

'I disagree. It's all that has ever counted. It was simply interrupted for a time. After all, this is the present and it still exists.'

'Artemis, I can't sleep with another woman's husband.'

'And I refuse to sleep with anyone other than you.'

'You've never made love to your wife?'

'It wouldn't be making love, would it?'

'Stop splitting hairs, Artemis.'

'Stop being so pathetically moral. Have a little backbone, Holly, and do what you want.'

'I can't; it isn't right.'

'But it was alright to go against fairy taboo?'

'Traditions are different from people's feelings.'

'Trust me, Holly, you're not hurting her feelings. You might even been sparing them. I've been much more civil of late.' His voice is patronizing and she bridles under his blasé attitude.

'You should love your wife!' She tells him, accusatory. 'I take back what I said before. It's just like you to marry someone you don't care for; if only to prove that you always get what you want.'

Artemis rolls his eyes. 'You've got yourself confused. I _do_ always get what I want - but I want _this_, not her.' His lips twitch. 'And don't kid yourself into thinking that I will let you go again as easily as last time. You don't have a choice anymore, Holly.'

She glares at him. 'You won't "let me go"? And just how do you propose to stop me? I can kick your ass, Artemis Fowl.'

'Clearly,' he says, unconcerned. 'But do you honestly think I will have to resort to physically tying you down? You'll always be back, Holly. I've made you care too much not to. I wasn't sure, when you left the first time,' he admits, 'but now I know. You can't ever escape me.'

She looks at him, revolted - by his words and by her own recognition of their truth. 'I hate you,' she spits.

He doesn't seem overly concerned. 'I said care, not love.'

'Go d'Arvit yourself,' she tells him. 'I'll never come back to you.'

'That's what you said last time you left,' he smiles.


	92. Original Sin

Was supposed to be written in a way that it could be anyone couple in the series, but I think it came out more A & H than I intended.

* * *

Original Sin

She looked down at the apple in her hand. It was green; its stem was still attached. She bit into it.

'I just want a happy ending,' she said, after swallowing. 'Is that so bad? Is that too much to ask?'

'Yes,' he answered. 'For us, that's a lot to ask.'

'But is it _too much?_' She eyed the apple in her hand. With a sudden ferocity, she threw it away from her. It arced under the evening sky and disappeared into the grass. 'I'm a good person - don't I deserve a little happiness?'

'Unhappiness is the price we pay for knowledge.'

'And what knowledge have I gained, that I should be unhappy?' she snapped.

He smiled. 'The knowledge of me. Before, you were entirely ignorant of my existence.'

She laughed, though not happily. 'You're right, that has brought me nothing but grief.'

'Nothing?' His voice was quiet.

She looks out into the deepening blue of the night. 'Nothing that I wouldn't do all over again, if given the chance,' she said at length, laughing for real this time.

'I expect Eve would have said the same thing,' he replied.


	93. The Difference

And something a little bit depressing. I was thinking about something someone had said to me once and this is what came out... Vague? Yes. Sorry.

* * *

The Difference

'I thought it would be different,' she whispers.

'What do you mean?' Foaly asks.

'I thought it would be just a pain. You know, like... well, like another broken heart. Something that you know - one day - you'll get over.'

'A broken heart implies love, you know that, right?'

'Broken heart doesn't begin to cover how I feel,' she says.

Foaly swallows. 'Oh.'

'It had been so long, too,' Holly shakes her head, 'so long since we'd last spoken. I thought it would just be like that had been. That was an ending too, after all.' She laughs. 'I even thought this one would be easier, after all this time.'

'And...?'

'And, instead, I feel like I'm going to throw up. I feel like I'm being eaten from the inside out. I feel like I'll never stop crying – even when there're no tears left, I just keep sobbing. My throat burns. My fingers are trembling. I – I can't believe this much hurt is possible. I think I might actually be falling to pieces.'

'Well, death isn't the same as just saying goodbye.'

'I know. But, at the time, I thought it might as well be. We were never going to see each other again, after all. For me, he might as well have been dead. But you're right – now I know it isn't the same.'

They are silent for a moment.

'But do you know what the worst part is?' she asks him. 'About all this pain? It's that it reminds me of just how alive I am - when he is dead.'


	94. Over My Dead Body

No! I haven't forgotten these guys! Just got distracted. Here's something fluffy and full of Julius-goodness as a change from my rather bizarre streak. Set somewhere at the end of AI, original edition. Because the American edition forgot about that one little puberty scene, didn't it? Yes, yes it did. Bitter? Me? Never.

At any rate, it's not terribly good, and a little premature considering the canon romantic build up, but I just wanted to write _something._

_

* * *

_

Over My Dead Body

'I saw that.'

Artemis nearly jumped out of his skin. Convulsively, his fingers dug into the LEP reading tablet he held.

'Saw what, Commander?' he asked. His was voice neutral and controlled, at odds with his wide, startled, eyes and twitchy fingers .

'The way you were looking at my officer.' Root emphasised 'my officer' only slightly as he sat down next to the boy.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Artemis replied. His fingers spread out over the reading tablet in his hand, as though in a gesture of innocence.

'Well, there's a first for everything,' Root mocked. 'But somehow I don't think this it. Tell me, Fowl, how old are you again? Eight? Nine?'

'Twelve.'

'Well, whatever. That seems a bit young to me, but then you humans are worse than rabbits. Anyway, it wouldn't matter if you were eighty-nine: don't get any ideas.'

'Ideas about what, Commander?' His fingers curled slowly over the edge of the tablet, gripping.

'About Captain Short. I know you two've gotten all pally on this last trip and I'm telling you now, Fowl, I don't even want you thinking about her, never mind looking at her. So you just keep your hands to yourself or I will personally feed you to trolls, limb by limb.' He drew out the end of the word 'limb', turning the b into its own syllable.

'Surely Holly can take care of herself. And surely you are being vastly premature. How on earth was I looking at her to make you jump to such outrageous conclusions?'

'Like something to eat,' came the curt reply.

'Oh.'

'Exactly, Fowl. And I don't think I am being premature. You and I both know the lengths you'll go to get what you want.'

Artemis licked his lips. 'This is all utterly ridiculous. Far-fetched conjecture and –'

'And yet you haven't denied it.' Root stood to go.

Artemis made one last attempt. 'Don't you trust her to take care of herself?'

Root glared, pulling a fungus cigar from some hidden inner pocket. 'Usually? Yes. With you? No. That's exactly the problem. So remember, Fowl, trolls.'

'How could I forget?' Reluctantly, Artemis set the tablet aside.


	95. Thanksgiving

Artemis POV. Three guesses who he's thinking about. Came from, well, doing stretches. And realising I've lost all muscle I once had. Oh well, at least I got a drabble out it! Because I know you all care so deeply about my sources of inspiration:P And no, this isn't an out of season seasonal piece, I mean the act of giving thanks.

* * *

Thanksgiving

He watched her stretch, watched the lines of her muscles lengthen and shift. When he allowed himself the luxury of looking at her, he had to admit that he found her more than simply good-looking; that his physical attraction ran the gamut from teenage lust to timeless awe. Without a doubt he had seen women who were more beautiful, he had seen landscapes more breath-taking and sculptures more graceful; but none of them inspired in him such desire and appreciation as the brief, rationed studies of her that he so seldom allowed himself.

But he knew that wasn't it.

Nor was it the fact that she entertained him. There were few people in the world that made him smile, never mind laugh, but she was one of them.

Nor was it Dr. Po's beloved 'respect'. If people who amused him were rare, rarer still were those he respected. And, once again, she was one of the few.

Nor was it the feeling of contentment being with her seemed to bring. A feeling of calm and security and acceptance, despite however chaotic the backdrop was.

She looked over her shoulder then, and caught him staring. She raised one red eyebrow, laughing at him. He felt the blood rise in his cheeks even as he frowned in concentration.

No, he thought, watching her return to her stretches, the thing that kept him tied to her, that held him so securely, was a feeling almost entirely alien to him. He believed it was called gratitude.


	96. Enjoyment

Less than a hundred words! Wahoo! Butler POV, trying to trick myself into writing a proper story about him. All my long ones seem to come out of these drabbles so we'll see. First of two parts.

* * *

Enjoyment

There was no blood. He was a professional after all. Looking down at the glassy eyes and slack jaw of his latest victim, Domovoi Butler felt satisfaction. He felt pride. He felt the thump of adrenalin pounding through his veins. He smiled.

The truth was that he enjoyed his job. He enjoyed the moment of death, with its thrill of triumph. But, most of all, he enjoyed the primitive satisfaction that came with knowing his own utter superiority. Truly, he gloried in it.

And he hated himself for it.


	97. Same Same But Different

Butler continued. I like him nearly as much as Root, I think. Oh Root. I hate it when the best characters get knocked off halfway through the series. I don't think I ever got over Harry Potter 5:P Sorry guys, late night rambling here...

For everyone and anyone who's been to Asia and been told 'Same same ... but different!'.

* * *

Same Same But Different

That was the difference between them, he realised one day. Between him and her.

Both soldiers, both practical, fierce, loyal and determined; they did what they had to do. He did it because he loved Artemis. Holly had never said why she did it, but he had his suspicions. That their reasons were one and the same.

Which had been painful for a while.

Until, one day, he saw her standing over the body of a fallen goblin – he didn't know who had gunned the creature down, him, her, Trouble. She looked up at him as he approached and he saw in her eyes all the guilt and horror and shame he wished he could muster. All that for some unconscious goblin, not even dead.

He had known then that, though they were similar, they were not the same. And, in that moment, he wished he could be good, like her, though she would never even know the difference.


	98. Don't, won't, cannot

Something that came to me on the bus today. Yay, double update. Probably inspired by Amberle Elessedil's Sickbed of Cuchulain. A/H. Because she lost a father, a mother, Root, and she would lose him. That's a lot of loss.

* * *

Don't, won't, cannot.

'This is pointless,' he says. 'Stop pushing me away. You love me, I know you do. _You _know you do. Why won't you simply admit to it?'

'I don't.' She shakes her head, frowning. 'No, I mean: I won't. I can't.'

He breathes in, preparing his rebuttal.

'Don't,' her voice tips towards begging and she raises her hands as though to protect herself. 'It doesn't matter if I do or I don't. What matters is that I _can. Not._'

'But you _can_. Are there laws against it? Is there –'

She laughs bitterly. 'This isn't about laws, Artemis. I can't. Me, myself, I can't.'

He frowns.

She takes a breath, 'I can't stand to be the one left behind, not again. Not this time.'

'Not this time,' she repeats, and her voice is plea.


	99. Hoarfrost

I ... don't know where this one came from. A secret desire to put on my wellies and wool sweater and stomp around in frost? I think probably yes. I also think I really need to get over A/H. I love it but I hate writing the same thing all the time. Grr, stuck in a rut. Oh well. It's still darn cute.

* * *

Hoarfrost

"Hoarfroast refers to the white ice crystals ... that form on cold clear nights when heat losses into the open skies cause objects to become colder than the surrounding air." - Wikipedia

* * *

Crunch.

The hoarfrost crumbled underfoot, the fragile life within it breaking and smearing against the earth.

_Let me look at you._

Crunch.

Each blade of grass was a world. A galaxy of icy stars. Every one of them unique. She stepped on them.

_Perhaps you could blow on that spark occasionally. _

Crunch.

They say every snowflake is different. Think about that. Every single one. How was that possible? _Was_ it possible?

_Thank you, I owe you everything._

Crunch.

And here she was, stepping on them. Obliterating them. The only copies of priceless works of art.

_You saved me again._

Crunch.

What a stupid, _stupid_ thought. Was she a captain, or was she a child? Every snow flake was exactly the same as the one before it and the one after it. Don't be ridiculous. Don't be pathetic.

_That wouldn't be so bad, would it? _

Crunch.

* * *

She was freezing. Like the greedy night sky he had sucked the warmth from her, that day in the sun. She could feel the ice in the air now, but it couldn't touch her. She was so much colder than the world around her. She had made herself an icicle helmet, pure and clear, to protect herself. From now on she would be safe.

Crunch.


	100. Fondly

Well, this was originally a drabble destined for In The Closet, then became two shorts, and then it was a stand alone and now it's back in ITC. Anyway, it's an idea I've been playing around with for a while, inspired, I think probably, by The Broken aspect of of Kit Heart's The Dead, The Broken and The Living. Was written to "The Trapeze Swinger" by Iron and Wine, who had more influence than I wanted it to have, but it fit nicely. So try reading it with the song? Dunno, maybe that'll enhance the experience (Lli: now in suround sound!). Sorry it's a bit ... verbose. But, I figure if this is the closing drabble of this collection I can go big.

So long ITC, it's been fun!

* * *

Fondly

She had been around long enough to be able to read between the lines when his fingers came to rest on her shoulder more often than before; when he leaned close for no reason, so close she could feel the warmth of his skin next to hers, only to suddenly pull away again; when he held her ever so infinitesimally tighter as they said goodbye.

She also knew that he was smart enough to understand what she meant when she brushed against him unnecessarily; when she laid her hand on his arm as she spoke; when her lips lingered on his cheek before she flew away.

For a long time they didn't talk about it. They pushed it away until the silence it left behind was so loud they began to go deaf.

* * *

'I know you want things to be different,' Holly spoke facing away from him.

'How observant of you.'

'Well, I'm not the leading Fowl expert for nothing.' Still facing away, her words were hard, her sentences abrupt. 'It can't happen.'

'Yes, I believe you already told me that. You were quite clear on how very "over" it was.'

'It's so over it never even began, Fowl.'

'Did it never?' his eyebrow quirked and he smiled at her, his eyes dark. 'I suppose that's another argument, however. Then again, perhaps I should be glad: if it never began it can never end and, therefore, will always be with us.'

'Always?' she did turn to him then, one word lingering in her mouth, softer and more eloquent than anything would ever be again. It reminded him of another question; of another time when she had asked him, with the same strange mixture of hope and fear, to reassure her. Instead, he had told her the truth.

He would tell the truth again, he decided. And, though this time it would be even worse, somehow it would be so much better. 'Always.'

* * *

The fact remained, however, that it was still there, this thing that was never supposed exist. This what? This love? Need? Bizarre symbiotic evolution? Whatever it was, it stretched between them, reverberating like a plucked string pulled taut between her body and his. And the note it made never seemed to fade, but trailed behind her wherever she went.

It was dangerous. It would only hurt her, in the end. And yet ... .

* * *

Holly shook her head. 'It's no good, Artemis. You need to move on. You're so young; you need to find someone else and forget about this whole thing.'

'Forget about what? There's nothing to forget.'

'Artemis-'

'And what about you? What should you do?'

'I should make you stop playing word games with me, for starters.' She sighed, fondness hovering in the corners of her mouth. 'Let's not talk about it. It's not happening.'

'What's not happening?'

She swatted him, turning away to hide her face, caught somewhere between a smile and a sob.

He caught her hand as it hit him and held it for a moment. Nothing inappropriate, nothing suspicious. Just a moment.

* * *

She didn't like to think about what would happen when he died; when the string would be cut and the harmony fell into dissonance and then faded away entirely. When she would be left floating in silence without an anchor, without anything to call her home.

* * *

'How will you remember me?'

'What?'

'How will you remember me, when I'm gone? Centuries from now.'

'Artemis-' The name growled, a warning.

'That is, if I don't do anything to atrocious between now and the time I die.'

'Artemis-' The name catching in her throat, breaking.

'How?' he pressed.

'How do you think?' she asked.

'Fondly?'

She marvelled at the uncertainty in his voice. '_Fondly?_' she repeated, incredulous. 'Fondly – fondly doesn't even _begin_ – no. Don't make me say this, Artemis. Please.'

He nodded and, for a while, was silent. Then, 'You _will _think of me, though? Sometimes, at least?'

'Of course,' she said, because the idea of not doing so was incomprehensible to her. 'Artemis, of course.'

He nodded again. Another moment passed. One of too few.

'Remember me happily,' he said at last. 'Think of me to make yourself happy, that is. Don't – I don't want to be a regret. Remember this. Remember ... remember that this will never end, even though it never began. When you are older and scarred and still beautiful and fighting off a thousand smitten new recruits, or, I don't know, when you've had a dozen children and are the trophy wife of some rich commander, please – please, remember me.' He chuckled, pretending to make a joke of it.

Obligingly, she laughed as well and, under the cover of comedy, reached forward, taking his face in her hands. It was such a simple gesture, nothing extravagant, and their laughter hid how something so simple was enough to break a heart.

'Always,' she said, meaning so much more.

* * *

If she was truthful, she knew there would never be silence. That note would never fade, but echo in her until she too fell to dust and could, finally, answer him.

In the meantime, however, what they had was sufficient. The fact that it existed at all was enough. Because, sometimes, just to know that you are loved is all that is needed.

* * *

'Always,' he repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth, taking her hands again, 'I suppose it's enough to live on.'

'Yes,' she nodded, swallowing, her hands tightening – briefly - around his, 'it's enough to live on.'

The End


End file.
